


Time to Pretend

by ThatGumYouLike



Category: Marvel
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/F, F/M, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGumYouLike/pseuds/ThatGumYouLike
Summary: Wade gets de-aged. It isn't nearly the walk in the park he thought it'd be.





	1. Billie Jean Is Not My Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring tons of other Marvel characters, singing and dancing, the cast from the Homecoming trailers, references, an M-rating for Wade's shit sense of humour, a main plot revolving around high school, a minor plot revolving around world destruction, references, an author who's unbearably lazy when it comes to tagging, and did I mention references?
> 
> Now with 100% more gay.

**T Minus 286 Days**

**Saturday, Sept. 9**

**1:03 P.M.**

_Note to self: maybe try not to piss off the Sorcerer Supreme—exalted practitioner of magic, illustrious defender of reality, and gloriously arrogant asshole—next time you meet him._

In fact, if there was a next time Wade would probably grovel at his feet, and there were very few people he would do that for. Or at least, very few people he would do that for in a non-sexual way.

“Well?” he demanded, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“Wade? Wade Wilson?”

Charles Xavier looked dumbfounded, his hands dropping from the wheels of his chair as if his mouth dropping wasn’t effective enough. Wade had expected a knowing smile, a roll of the eyes, and/or a wag of the finger, but apparently Charlie Boy hadn’t been paying attention to the minds of people outside of the school. That, or he’d been having mind-blowing sex with his on-again-off-again personal magnet.

“You do realize I can hear your thoughts,” Charles groaned, massaging his temples. A second later, his personal magnet appeared from somewhere else within the house to peer out at Wade in curiosity.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Wade asked, completely satisfied when he spotted how mussed Erik’s hair looked. Good for them, being old but still getting it on like a couple of horny teens. He could only imagine the kinky stuff they’d done in their younger years, when they’d probably still had wicked hate sex.

“For the love of—Please stop with all of that. We’re not here to discuss my younger years. As a matter of fact, _your_ younger years seem to be the case in point, considering…” Charles made an expansive gesture to Wade’s whole self. “All of this. How in the world did you manage it, anyway?”

“Read my mind,” Wade said smugly, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. Although, on the other hand it made perfect sense to be proud of it, kind of like a ‘ _I kicked a hornet’s nest and managed to be stung by every little fucker that came out of it_ ’ pride. The results hadn’t been the best, but how many others could lay claim to that kind of fame?

“I’d rather not,” Charles muttered with a pained glance at Erik, who arched an amused brow. “Erik is only going to ask me to repeat the story later, anyway. You may as well come in for some tea while you explain it all.”

“Do you have anything stronger?”

“Not for you,” Charles called over his shoulder, already wheeling to his study. “I don’t serve alcohol to minors.”

_Well shit._

_Confused? Wondering why I’m considered a minor when I’m a twenty-five-year-old antihero who’s seen more than most one-hundred-and-twenty-five year olds? Let’s rewind._

….

…

..

.

**Countdown Not Initiated**

**May 3 - August 22**

**And All the Times in Between**

“—nice to finally meet Real Life Harry Potter™,” Wade finished, hands clasped adoringly in front of him. “And I mean, personally I think you’re even cooler than Harry Potter because you have a freaking levitating cloak! Way cooler than invisibility! You don’t need to be invisible to drop girls’ panties with a levitating cloak.”

Stephen Strange finally looked up from some massive leather tome (probably made of human skin) he was reading to fix Wade with a piercing stare. He shut the book with a decisive snap, his cloak rippling as if it were just as annoyed as its master.

“I thought I asked you to leave ten minutes ago,” he muttered as he stood up to place the book in a way too overstocked shelf. Wade wasn’t sure if Strange had heard a single thing he’d said for the past few minutes, but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. He was going to become a wizard’s apprentice if it was the last thing he did, never mind that everyone said you needed sanity and the ability to concentrate for longer than five minutes. Haters were gunna hate.

“I don’t remember that. I _do_ remember you saying that I have incredible potential, enough to become the next Sorcerer Supreme and pretend to be you so I can be friends with Spidey.”

“First and foremost, you’ll never be a wizard, let alone Sorcerer Supreme. We don’t even identify as wizards, anyway; not after that whole influx of Harry Potter fans thinking it was just like what Rowling wrote.

“Second… I don’t even wear a mask. Clearly we don’t look alike, so Spider-Man will never believe you’re me. Never. And third—” Strange spoke loudly over Wade’s protests, eyes a warning. “You need to leave my office. There’s a being interfering with alternate realities that I need to look into, and distractions are absolutely unwelcome. Go back to New York.”

Wade slumped in his chair, wondering if pouting would get him anywhere. Probably not, considering the man in front of him was friends with Spidey and pouting usually got him nowhere with Spidey either. That reminded him…

“Fine, we can wait until after you’ve dealt with whoever’s messing with dimensions to start my training. But you can at least tell me something about Spider-Man’s identity. I know you know him OOC; out of costume. Is he hot? Is he around my age? Does he work out? Does he—”

Strange waved a dismissive hand and Wade found himself back in New York. As annoying as it was, he was in awe of what wizards could do. He could only imagine what he would do with that sort of power. Probably blow people’s clothes off, make chimichangas out of thin air, fix his scars, totally impress Spidey next time they worked together…

The possibilities were endless.

So Wade went back to Tibet, which was the only physical place he could get to Strange from.

Strange threw him to Africa.

He chilled with a tribe for a while then went back to Tibet.

Strange flung him to Australia.

He lost a boxing match with a kangaroo then went back to Tibet.

Strange stuck him in that Mexican prison city, San Pedro.

He lost ten thousand bucks in poker games, called Weasel, then went back to Tibet.

Strange kicked him so hard his head almost fell off.

He walked the five blocks Strange had kicked him and knocked politely on the door.

“This is never going to end, is it?” Strange asked as he opened the door, hair dishevelled and cloak limp. It was a look of complete defeat, and Wade gave him a huge grin as he pushed his way into the training center and tossed himself into the nearest chair.

“Where to next, boss? This training is tough, let me tell you, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Doom is coming sometime within the next year,” Strange sighed as he seated himself across from Wade. “I need my doors open so more can come to train. I also need you to stop showing up here. This is most certainly an issue.”

“Oooh, that sounds ominous. What are we going to do?”

“There is no _we_. You’ll never be one of us and your coming here is a complete waste of both of our times. You could be useful in the upcoming war but you never seem to learn from your mistakes. Doom will take advantage of that and…”

Strange trailed off, looking troubled. Wade reached out and patted his knee comfortingly, which earned him a scathing look and an electric shock through his hand.

“I never was a good learner in school—learner? Is that a word you can use in this context? Well, it is now—but that was never an issue for me. My life may have royally sucked, but I turned out alright.”

_You have us in your head._

**We give him useful tips, though.**

_We tell him to kill things on a daily basis and enable his bad jokes._

**Exactly! Useful! Heh.**

“Yes, you clearly learned nothing from your days at school. There are more lessons than theory there; I only recently learned that myself. You need a similar experience and I can’t give that to you. You need to be taught in a different way than me. You almost need to…”

Wade waited while an uncharacteristically creepy smile grew over Strange’s face. For a second Wade thought Strange would lean towards him and whisper that he was going to teach him the Cruciatus Curse. Honestly, Wade could see Strange going either way; brave, stubborn Harry or full-on Voldemort. He leaned forward eagerly.

“Can we be Slytherins?”

“I can’t mess with time, but pulling a physical form from an alternate reality shouldn’t be too hard,” Strange murmured to himself. It sounded exciting. Whatever he was talking about. “That’ll work. Alright, this may hurt a pinch. I’d say try to relax but I don’t really care.”

.

..

…

….

**T Minus 286 Days**

**Saturday, Sept. 9**

**1:24 P.M.**

“So he… what? Turned you into a teenager?” Charles asked, sucking back that Yorkshire tea. Erik burst out laughing, much more amused than anyone else in the room.

“Oh, it’s very clever, isn’t it, Charles?” he asked as Wade sat back in his chair, finished with the story. “You also know about _him_ , so you could—”

“No, Erik,” Charles coughed out, pounding on his chest as he choked on his tea. “That is absolutely the worst idea anyone’s ever thought up. You’re worse than Wade.”

“Really? He came up with an idea worse than any of mine?” Wade clapped his (young, smooth, unscarred) hands happily. “What is it? Is it bad? Can we do it?”

Charles gave Erik a warning glance, and then they locked eyes, clearly having a little lover’s spat in their heads. Wade drummed his feet patiently on the ground while he watched Erik’s eyebrows dance and the line of Charles’s mouth grow flatter until Charles finally grimaced and threw his hands in the air.

“I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like I’ve raised a lifetime of young mutants, stopped wars, and turned some of the worst villains—” This said with a pointed look at Erik. “—good again. But oh no! Why should my opinion in this matter at all? What a ridiculous notion.”

The smile Wade and Erik shared was like a heartwarming father-son bonding moment. Wade didn’t miss the way Charles’s frown deepened at their bonding, as if there could possibly be some sort of problem with Deadpool and former-supervillain-Magneto teaming up.

“So what is it?” Wade asked again, more eager now than ever. He’d at first thought being a teenager was amazing; scars gone, hair back, body of a seventeen-year-old in relatively good shape. Until he’d realized his ID didn’t work anymore and no one would serve him alcohol or hookers. Plus, his goddamn mood kept bouncing all over the place, acne kept appearing in weird places, and apparently he no longer healed when hurt. Not to mention he no longer fit the suit so he might not get to work with Spidey anymore. Oh, and the narbs. No apparent reason boners.

“You have two options,” Charles said tightly, still glaring at Erik. “You can stay here and take classes or we can make you papers to go to a high school in New York.”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you could call the good doctor and ask him to make me… well, me, again. That’s why I came here. He threatened to send me to the bottom of the ocean if I came back to bother him one more time and, I mean, I’m not opposed to it or anything, but I need my healing factor to do that. Pretty please?”

Charles closed his eyes, the room falling silent for a second, then opened them and shook his head.

“Stephen says he’ll turn you back if—and only if—you manage to accumulate an average of over 80% within your classes on your final report.”

Wade’s jaw dropped, and for once in his life he was speechless.

**Did he say 80?**

_Maybe he meant 18. There was no way he said 80, right?_

**We can’t possibly be expected to actually do school. He’s clowning.**

Charles shook his head.

_He’s not clowning. Motherfucking fucker fuck shit._

**Not only that, but they all expect us to be a teen for an entire school year. A year.**

_No Spidey for a year?_

**We’ll make another suit.**

_How do we be Deadpool when we have to worry about homework?_

Silence.

“I’m a twenty-five-year-old man,” Wade said indignantly.

“Then hopefully this will teach you to act like it,” Charles replied. Wade looked to Erik imploringly but Erik only shook his head in pity.

“When it comes to redemption, Charles won’t give up,” he offered apologetically. “Since he sees this as a way to redeem you, you’ll have to put up with it. My recommendation? Go to the school in New York. Trust me.”

“I hate you, dads,” Wade muttered petulantly, which yes, wasn’t exactly the most mature statement he could’ve made, but he would have to find a way to have fun with this. Somehow. He wouldn’t be getting any 80s, but he could at least make generic teen jokes. “You guys don’t, like, get me. You don’t, like, understand my generation.”

“Here or New York?” Charles asked, ignoring Wade’s antics. “Luckily for you, the school year’s only just begun so you won’t be disruptive—” He saw Wade’s look and amended his statement. “—you won’t have to worry about missing too much. You also should try to not be disruptive, though. As difficult as it may seem, you may find life can be surprisingly simpler when you act kinder.”

“I’ll take New York,” Wade sniffed with a glance at Erik. “And listen, I know I may not miss much, but your second statement? You’re definitely clowning. Normal life may be simpler, but there’s absolutely nothing that can make high school life simpler.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” Charles admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “High school isn’t exactly an easy time. But you’ll get used it.”

 

**T Minus 284 Days**

**Monday, Sept. 11**

**8:15 A.M.**

It was only the first day of his second week back and Peter already knew he wouldn’t get used to grade twelve. Just like he hadn’t gotten used to grade nine. Or ten. Or eleven. This particular day had started off alright; Aunt May had his breakfast made, he’d only had to save one person before school so he hadn’t been late, and Tony Stark had called to say he was in the process of making Peter a second suit.

He’d actually thought things were going to work out for once. Until Flash Thompson caught him distracted, searching his locker for the biology textbook he’d been sure he hadn’t forgotten at home. His senses had told him someone was behind him but he’d thought it was Ned and ignored it even when he sensed something being raised over his head. Big mistake.

“I heard you like milk, Parker,” Flash snickered as he dumped an entire milkshake all over Peter’s head. Peter stood there, frothy white trickling down his back and making his shoes soggy, while the rest of the hall laughed. He reached up and wiped the milkshake from his eyes, anger making his jaw clench. He didn’t have to take this shit. He was _Spider-Man_.

He whipped around, half-ready to punch the smirk off of Flash’s face, when he caught sight of Liz stalking down the hallway. He quickly dropped his fist, wiping his face off as best he could while people flattened themselves against walls to make room for her.

“Flash Thompson!” she snapped, and Peter saw Flash’s face contort in fear a second before Liz reached him.

“Liz, I—I—”

“What the hell did I tell you about messing with Peter? Or messing with anyone, for that matter?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just—”

“You guess nothing. I see you pulling this crap one more time and I’ll slap you into next Sunday.”

Ignoring the way Flash’s mouth fluttered as he tried to come up with excuses, Liz turned to Peter and reached up to unfold the scarf at her throat.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” she said gently as she stepped forward and wiped his face. Peter’s heart skidded to a halt at her closeness, colour rising to his cheeks as he tried not to look like a complete idiot. Liz was wiping him off with her scarf. She was looking at _him_ like that, with an apologetic gentleness that made him dizzy. She knew his _name_. Yeah, she was basically perfect.

“It’s okay,” he managed to get out as the bell rang. She bit her lower lip, watching as the other students fled to their classrooms so as not to be late.

“I have to…”

“Yeah, yeah, no, it’s fine,” Peter babbled, willing to say anything to make her happy. “You go ahead, I’ll just get washed up and… Yeah.”

“You sure? Okay, keep the scarf, then. It’s the least I can do after what that jerk did.”

With a roll of her eyes, Liz pressed the scarf into his hands and gave him a finger waggle, turning to walk down the hallway. Peter fell against his locker, heart pounding as he watched her go, head somewhere up near the Orion constellation. It didn’t matter how confident he was when it came to being Spider-Man; he always turned into a mess around the girl he liked.

“Dude, did my eyes deceive me?” a familiar voice asked, and Peter snapped out of his thoughts, turning to see Ned come up behind him. “Did the gorgeous, amazing Liz Allan just deign to speak to a plebeian such as yourself? That’s like, some Galadriel talking to Frodo shit. If Frodo wasn’t carrying the ring and Boromir had just dumped a milkshake on him.”

“Are you seriously comparing Flash to Boromir?” Peter snorted as he shut his locker and tried in vain to get the rest of the liquid congealing on him off. “I think you’re forgetting that he turned out to be a good guy in the end. There’s no way Flash is a good guy.”

“Then what does Liz see in him?”

And there was the downside of the school’s most beloved cheerleader. For whatever reason, something about Flash attracted her and she had yet to break up with him despite him sneering down at anyone whose parents made than less than seven figures. Peter would never understand it.

“Maybe someday she’ll realize her mistake,” Peter said wistfully, imagining himself saving her as Spider-Man and then sweeping her off her feet. Actually, no. Reality intruded and he realized that if that ever happened, Deadpool would freak out. Deadpool always freaked out when he carried women princes-style. He claimed the only one Peter should carry princess-style was him, and Peter was never one hundred percent certain if it was a joke. Knowing him, probably not.

“And get with you? You wish. I mean, no offense, man, but you’re kind of… nerdy.”

“ _He’s_ nerdy?” a voice laughed from behind them, and Peter didn’t need to turn to know that it was Michele Gonzalez, the only person in the school who managed to be both a social outcast and cool at the same time. “You’re both losers.”

She brushed past them with a pitying shake of her head at Peter’s milkshake predicament, and Peter and Ned sighed simultaneously.

“Thank you, Allison Reynolds,” Peter called as she neared the end of the hallway. She casually flipped him the bird over her shoulder, not bothering to look up from a battered copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_ as she walked. Peter wondered how she was able to make being an outcast seem so classy. He definitely needed lessons.

“Anyway, I gotta get to class too, so I’ll let Mr. Warren know you’ll be late. Oh, and watch out for the new kid. Apparently there’s some guy coming in today who was homeschooled and Warren wants you to be his science tutor.”

“Great,” Peter groaned as Ned shrugged and walked off. Second week and he’d already gotten a milkshake shower and a student to tutor. At least things were going well with Liz; not only did she know his name, she’d given him her scarf.

He brought it to his nose, inhaling the scent of her subtle perfume while he entered the bathroom. Okay, he was probably definitely entering levels of serious creepiness.

“Science… Science? _AP_ Science? What the shit?”

Peter lowered the scarf, staring at the guy standing in front of the bathroom mirror and mumbling as he read over a sheet of paper. Wow. He was… Wow. Strong jawline, tall figure, messy blond locks he was holding back with long fingers… He had the whole package. Peter suddenly felt inadequate standing near him, dressed in jeans and an oversized shirt with a physics joke. This guy was dressed like he’d just stepped out of an 80s fashion magazine; long shorts low on his hips, form-fitting jean jacket, biker boots, and shades.

“I mean; they could have at least had the decency to put me in the special needs class. This is ridiculous. I’m going to _die_. No, I don’t mean literally. …I don’t fucking know. Do you think it’s possible? Since I’ve…”

The guy ceased conversing with himself, head jerking up as he realized Peter was standing there staring at him. Peter flushed, ducking his head as he chose the sink furthest away from the guy, and started wetting Liz’s scarf. He had no idea who this guy was but he wanted nothing to do with anyone who looked like they could be an enforcer in some sort of gang. The last thing he needed was to blow his cover as a weakling by getting in a fight.

He had been studiously avoiding looking at Blondie, scrubbing at the milkshake, when the feeling of someone creeping up beside him made him jump a couple of steps back. Blondie had tilted his shades down his nose with a single finger and was looking Peter up and down in a way that definitely shouldn’t be legal.

“That isn’t what I think it is, is it?” Blondie asked, a wicked smirk on his face. “I mean… I’ve got no problems if it is. I just didn’t realize school had become so… er… progressive.”

It took Peter a second to realize what Blondie was implying, but when he did his face got so red it rivaled the colour on his Spider-Man suit. He was used to banter as Spider-Man, but as Peter Parker, where everything was so much more personal… He kind of wanted to die, then and there.

“No. Jesus, no, it’s a milkshake, okay? That kind of thing isn’t…”

He shook his head, flustered, and contented himself with getting the last of it off of his shoes while Blondie continued to watch him, that annoying smirk growing. Peter knew that look all too well and he wanted to kick a hole through the wall. It was the look of someone who had just found the perfect prey to pick on, the look of someone who wouldn’t leave him alone for the rest of his high school career. Seriously, how unlucky did a guy have to be to be picked on by _two_ bullies?

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Blondie asked as Peter finally finished up. Kiddo. As if adding to the insult that Peter was tiny and was probably about to get his ass kicked.

“Peter Parker,” he muttered in a low voice, waiting for the punch to come. He had resigned himself to taking it, if only so that this guy didn’t start spreading rumours that Peter had some kind of crazy reflexes. He didn’t need that getting out.

“Peter Parker…” the guy said, as if tasting the name. After a moment, he grinned brightly.

“I’m Wade Wilson. You can call me Wade, or Wilson, or anything you want just as long as you call me.”

Peter blinked rapidly, unsure if he should still be prepping for a punch or if this was some kind of psychological bullying. It didn’t take long for him to get his answer.

Reaching out, Wade grabbed his chin and tilted it up, blue eyes sparkling over the rims of his sunglasses as he leaned down. Peter was so frozen in shock that he couldn’t move; he stood there like a deer caught in headlights, heart jackhammering harder than it had when Liz had been close. He should totally punch this guy’s lights out, flip him over his shoulder, shove him away. Was this how his first kiss was going to be? Stolen in a dingy bathroom by a guy he’d never seen before?

Wade’s tongue darted out and ran a strip up Peter’s cheek, making Peter shiver.

“Mm! It _is_ milkshake! Sorry, you missed a spot and I couldn’t help it,” Wade laughed as he leaned back, smacking his lips. “That was nice. Anyway, see you around, kiddo. It was nice meeting you.”

Whistling an off-key tune, Wade strode past him and kicked the bathroom door open, proceeding off somewhere down the hall. Peter stood there, knees weak as he clutched Liz’s scarf to his chest. He didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t even begin to process the amount of things he was feeling, let alone move from his spot. All he knew was that Wade terrified him more than any enemy he’d ever faced as Spider-Man and as Peter.

Oh well. If he’d never seen Wade before, maybe it meant he was in a younger grade? Right? Probably?

 

**T Minus 284 Days**

**Monday, Sept. 11**

**8:35 A.M.**

Wade arrived at science class about… ohhh, say fifteen minutes late. Never mind that Charles had insisted on dropping him off early on his first day or that Erik had told him to make sure to get to class on time. He’d had to scope the place out, find the best hidey holes and see what clubs you could sign up for. Football? Definitely. Chess? Yep. Water polo? Of course. Cheerleading? Oh yeah. Who cared that they conflicted and gave him less time in class? The reason they were fun was _because_ they gave him more time out of class.

And there was another thing he’d had to do. Something to immediately gain him street cred among these little shits.

_When is it coming on? Do you think he actually listened to us?_

**We paid him a thousand bucks. He’d better fucking do it.**

_Yeah, but principals usually don’t do that kind of thing._

**He was amused, though. He’ll do it for shits and giggles. Plus, we threatened to kill his family if he didn’t or if he called the cops on us.**

Sure enough, the PA crackled to life overhead a moment later. Wade adjusted his jacket, resting one hand on the classroom door handle. You either made a scene or you faded into the obscurity that was the high school hierarchy. Wade definitely wasn’t going to do the latter. The beat started up and Wade grinned his widest, throwing the door open.

♩ _She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene_ ♩

Wade strutted in, M.J. style. The teacher stopped mid-lesson, open-mouthed.

♩ _I said don't mind, but what do you mean, I am the one_ ♩

The class perked up from their bored positions as he spun at the front of the room, nodding his head to the music. As the song continued, people began to giggle and clap until the whole room was laughing, including the teacher.

“BILLY JEAN IS NOT MY LOVER!” Wade sang at the top of his lungs, moonwalking the shit outta that. His audience exploded into applause, some people beginning to sing along. The only one not singing along was, ironically enough, the pretty milkshake boy from the bathroom. He was staring at Wade, pale-faced and shocked, as if Wade had just moonwalked into his life and asked him out.

So Wade slid across the floor ( _which is fucking hard to do in combat boots, I’ll have you know_ ) until he was right in front of Peter’s desk. He spun once then offered his hand to Peter, who shook his head mutely and looked appropriately horrified.

“Come on, Parker!” one of the girls hooted from the back. “Show us your stuff!”

Peter sank lower in his seat and looked desperately out the window as if that could somehow protect him from the scene in front of him, his eyes only flickering once to a pretty little thing in front of him. Wade instantly moonwalked to her and spun her out of her seat.

“Billie Jean…” he began, nodding to her.

“…is not my lover!” she giggled as he twirled her. He could feel Peter’s eyes on them now and he internally laughed. High school boys were so predictable. He finished the rest of the song with the girl, making sure not to look at Peter the entire time now. If there was one thing he was good at it, it was wearing people down until they had to do what he wanted. In this case, he wanted Peter to lighten up a little.

“You must be Wade Wilson,” the teacher called over applause and wolf-whistles as Wade released his dancing partner back to her seat.

“Thank you, thank you,” Wade said self-importantly, before nodding to the teacher. Did entertaining a class gain you brownie points that boosted your grades? “Yes, I am. Happy to be here. It’s lovely to meet all of you guys and gals and others.”

The teacher chuckled a little more at that before showing Wade to his seat.

“You’ll be sitting next to Mr. Parker. Since you were homeschooled, I figured you could use all the extra help you could get to catch up, and Mr. Parker here is one of our best and brightest. He can also assist you with getting to know the school and what we have to offer.”

“Sir!” Peter gasped out, looking mortified. “I can’t really—This semester is—I—”

“Nice to meet you again,” Wade chirped, sliding into the seat Peter’s science partner had just vacated. “I think we’ll be great friends.”

“—on’t think so,” was all Wade caught from whatever Peter had said. Oh well. Even if Peter had no faith, Wade did. By the end of the semester, Peter would cry when Wade had to leave.

 

**T Minus 284 Days**

**Monday, Sept. 11**

**11:12 A.M.**

Peter wanted to cry. When he’d first met Wade, he’d been unsure what kind of opinion to form, but now he knew. He hated Wade. He hated the way Wade interrupted the class by stage-whispering questions about the lesson that made everybody laugh. He hated the way Wade got up in his personal space to look over his answers. He hated the way Wade was already friends with everyone in the entire school after they’d heard about the Billie Jean thing. And most of all, he hated the adoring way Liz looked at Wade every time the guy walked into the room.

In fact, it was at the point where he’d rather tutor Deadpool for an entire semester and put up with the sexual innuendos about homework than Wade goddamn Wilson and his hundred-watt smirk.

“Dude’s pretty cool,” Ned said through a mouthful of fries as they sat as far away from humanity as possible and watched cheerleaders and football players alike fawn over the new kid. Wade noticed Peter watching and raised his hand to wave cheerfully, which made everyone glance over and laugh. Peter turned back to his own untouched tray.

“He’s an asshole,” Peter muttered, stabbing the ketchup viciously with a fry. “I hate him and I want to be as far away from his as possible. Heck, I’d rather hang with Flash than him.”

“Harsh,” Ned laughed, cramming more chicken in his mouth than should be humanly possible. “It seems to me this is more about a certain girl than about Wade’s personality, though. I mean, guy’s pretty perfect. He moonwalked into science class and in the brief time I talked to him, he made two Star Wars references and an Alan Wake reference. _Alan Wake_ , Peter. Fake gamers don’t know that.”

“He’s even stealing my best friend,” Peter told his fry sadly. It wilted over from the weight of the ketchup. Peter took it as a sign of agreement.

“He may have everyone else fooled, but he doesn’t fool me for a second,” Michele said as she dropped into the seat beside Peter. Peter and Ned stared in astonishment; Michele _never_ sat with anyone. She was cool enough that she could probably sit anywhere save with the cheerleaders and football players, but she enjoyed reading more than social interaction. Ned actually reached up and rubbed his eyes.

“You don’t like him either?” Peter hedged, exchanging an eyebrow arch with Ned.

“Nope. He saw me reading _The Catcher in the Rye_ and told me he likes catchers and rye, so he’d probably like the book. Seriously? Who’s never heard of Holden Caulfield? And…”

She leaned forward, forcing Peter and Ned to lean forward as well despite the fact that the nearest people were two tables away.

“He didn’t get my Game of Thrones reference.”

“Bullshit,” Ned said immediately, drumstick slipping from his fingers. “He knows Alan Wake. How can he not know Game of Thrones?”

“It’s his weakness,” Peter gasped with a snap of his fingers. “If we talk in GoT references, he won’t know we’re plotting against him.”

“Hold on… plotting against him?” Ned asked, now looking hopelessly lost.

“He’s clearly faking his whole persona if he doesn’t know about GoT. We need to protect Liz from him,” Michele explained slowly, as if Ned was five. Ned wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Why do you care?”

“Because Liz is totally hot and I heard she dated another girl in middle school,” Michele said triumphantly, leaning back with a ‘so there’ expression. Peter swallowed. Wow. That certainly widened the competition playing field. On the one hand, he could definitely see the appeal other girls could have, especially someone as savvy and sarcastic as Michele. On the other, he did have the fact that he was Spider-Man going for him. There weren’t many others who could lay claim to that. Even though he couldn’t actually claim it.

“So what do we do?” Peter asked, content to let Michele take the lead on this one. She deserved it for finding out the GoT thing.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re tutoring him. You can keep him distracted while I look for dirt and try to keep Liz away from him.”

“That means you’re getting more time with Liz though,” Peter complained, feeling like he was getting the short end of the stick.

“And yet there’s no other way. Your choices are between me and him,” Michele mused, steepling her fingers like some sort of villain. Peter glanced over to where Liz was laughing, face bright and open as she slapped Wade’s shoulder in a friendly way. Peter heaved a sigh; Michele was clever. Too clever. Still, he liked her more than Wade, so he’d rather see her and Liz together than Wade and Liz.

“Fine. I can’t believe I’m going to have to spend an entire semester cozying up with this guy while you get to hang with the girl of my dreams. They’d better make you his tutor next semester.”

“Well, maybe,” Michele said vaguely in a voice that suggested she didn’t think it was possible at all. “Anyway, your main goal right now should be to get to know him better. Anytime he’s around and we need to discuss the plan, Game of Thrones references only. Liz, of course, is our hot dragon mama Khaleesi. I’ll be the foxy, badass Missandei. You two are Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly. Capeesh?”

“I don’t know how I’m even involved in this whole thing, but alright,” Ned said agreeably. “I just think you’re missing out on a perfect opportunity to make me Ned Stark.”

“Too obvious, even for someone who doesn’t watch GoT. You’re Samwell Tarly. Oh, and Wade… he’s Joffrey.”

Peter spit the milk he’d been drinking all over the table, banging on his chest as he laughed.

“This is me… trying not to sob in laughter…” he choked out, Ned patting his back. Michele rolled her eyes.

“And this is me…” She stood up, flipping sleek brown locks over her shoulder. “…on my way to steal your girl.”

Tucking her book under her arm, she strode confidently out of the cafeteria, pausing to give Liz a wave that Liz returned with a lovely smile.

“One question, though…” Ned spoke as he began wolfing down Peter’s untouched meal. “…What about her, you know, _real_ boyfriend? Flash?”

Peter watched as Wade crooked a finger and Liz leaned down to listen to him say something in her ear, placing one hand over her mouth and looking mock-scandalized at whatever he’d said. Flash watched the two of them with the most resigned expression Peter had ever seen him wear.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

 

**T Minus 284 Days**

**Monday, Sept. 11**

**2:23 P.M.**

Liz sat beside Wade, one shapely leg crossed over the other as she clicked her pen on and off, concentrating on the lesson. She was hot, Wade would give her that, but more than that; she was terrifying.

After his little show, he’d wanted to get to know Peter better, but Liz had grabbed him after class and dragged him into the little boy’s room, slamming the door shoot and locking it.

“I don’t do sex before the second date unless the first date blows my mind,” Wade informed her. Which wasn’t strictly true, but she didn’t need to know that.

“And I don’t do sex before the fifth date under any circumstances,” Liz shot back, a smile curling across her mouth. “I locked the door because I want to talk secrets. I know you have some because a liar can spot a liar. Mine is that I’m not as perfect as I let on. I don’t know what yours is but it doesn’t matter. You’re not nearly as attracted to me as you act, are you?”

 _We’re seven hundred percent more interested now_.

**We have to stay a virgin for Spidey, remember?**

_Hahaha_ **hahaha**.

“Objectively or subjectively?” Wade stalled, not quite sure what she wanted to hear. She laughed and leaned against the door, shaking her head ruefully.

“It’s a good thing, Wade Wilson. I don’t want to lead someone who’s attracted to me on, which is why I decided not to ask this of Peter.”

“So you know he’s into you?”

“It’s kind of obvious. And I mean, he’s adorable and everything, but I think he likes me because he thinks I’m a nice girl. I’m not nearly as nice as I act. The truth is, I love Flash. Sure, he’s an asshole on the outside, but I know him better than anyone and he has his reasons.”

Wade nodded along, his interest waning. He was more interested in getting back out there and lightening Peter up than wasting time talking with some chick about her ex.

“So you want me to do… what?”

“I want you to flirt with me so I can act interested and Flash will think he’s losing me. It isn’t to make him jealous or make him clingy or anything; it’s because he doesn’t believe me when I threaten to leave him if he doesn’t change. I can’t stand him picking on everyone.”

_Trivial. High school kids worry over the most trivial things._

**Peter needs a new crush.**

_But we’re taken! Our heart has been webbed away!_

**Deadpool is taken. Wade Wilson isn’t.**

_Breaking his heart won’t lighten him up though._

**Do it anyway!**

“What do I get out of it?”

“What do you want?”

It took Wade a total of one second to come up with an answer.

“Peter Parker.”

Liz blinked, clearly taken aback by his answer. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, then peered at him suspiciously as if trying to decide whether he was serious or not. He kept his face as serious as it could go, trying not to think about unicorns, sex, or haikus.

“You want him as in you _want_ him?” Liz asked hesitantly, trying to gauge his reaction. No, he didn’t want _want_ Peter. Peter was cute and easily flustered and smart, but it wasn’t like Wade was in love with the guy. Or ever _could_ fall in love with someone so naïve and innocent, let alone someone in high school.

“Nah. I just want the kid to lighten up a little. He doesn’t seem like he enjoys his high school life and that’s shitty. High school isn’t a time to be serious and freak out over grades; it’s the place where you’re supposed to have the time of your life!”

For a second he thought he could literally feel Charles’s disapproval radiating through his head. To be honest, it wouldn’t even surprise him, since Charles had basically adopted his pimply-ass teen self.

“You want _Peter_ to _lighten up_ ,” Liz scoffed, shaking her head admiringly. “Never going to happen. I’ve known him since grade school—we’ve been going to all the same schools except middle school—and he’s always been serious about education.”

“Grade school?” Wade batted his eyelashes. “Oh wise one, please impart thy dirt upon me.”

Liz tried not to smile and failed, shaking her head again.

“You’re insufferable. Pete’s parents died when he was young so he lived with his Aunt and Uncle. He had a close group of friends through grade school that I guess kind of broke up when they all went to different high schools. Two girls and a guy, I think? I don’t know, I haven’t seen them in forever. He was never bullied with them, but the bullying started in high school when everyone other than him grew up. It hasn’t really stopped, and the only friend he has now is Ned. Oh, and his Uncle died two years ago so he’s been having a hard time since. Grades slipping, late for class, gets into fights outside of school… or so I’ve heard.”

**What? No. Nooooo. There’s no way he gets into fights outside of school.**

_Have you seen him? You could blow and he would fall over._

**When you say blow—**

_Well, that too. But that’s every guy._

“Before I say anything else… fights? Seriously?”

“Maybe it’s more accurate to say he gets beaten up or something,” Liz mused, her eyes softening as if she considered Peter a sad little puppy. Which, to be completely honest, he was. He had the tragic backstory, the doe-eyes, and just the right amount of awkwardness.

“Me and a couple of the other girls on the squad have noticed it. He comes in with limps sometimes, and Flash told me one time he took off his shirt and had a bruise that took up his entire body. It can’t be his Aunt; she came into grade school sometimes and she’s the sweetest lady ever. So maybe her boyfriend or something? I don’t know. Just… be nice to him, okay? He doesn’t deserve anything bad happening to him.”

Wade brought two fingers to his forehead, tipping them in a salute. So Peter was a smart kid with an abusive father figure and only one friend? That made it a little more depressing. Generic, yes, but still depressing.

“I’ll get to the bottom of whoever’s hurting him,” Wade said with a solemn nod. He’d have to make a list of steps as to how he was going to do that, but he’d do it. Then, instead of getting good grades, he would show Doctor Strange how kind his heart was and Strange would turn him back. Right? Wasn’t that how it worked in fairy tales?

“If that’s the case, count me in. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you and Peter become friends. Partner.”

Liz offered her fist and they devised a secret handshake that put every NBA handshake to shame.

Now, sitting beside her in class, he couldn’t help but think she was a force to be reckoned with. Kind of like a hurricane. People didn’t usually get him to help them in their plans; it was usually him manipulating them into helping him free of cost. She was impressive.

Noticing Wade’s look, Liz smiled as flirty as possible and slid him a note that had Flash trying to peer over his shoulder. He shielded it from the rich kid’s eyes, reading the title over and smirking in approval.

_Operation: Protect Peter Parker._

Unbeknownst to him, as he sat there reading through Liz’s note in math class, Peter sat in psychology and read over a note from Michele. Titled:

_Operation: Wreck Wade Wilson._


	2. You're So Fine You Blow My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've planned this out to be roughly ten chapters, give or take a couple. I just like to have a number to shoot for. Thanks for your support, my guys.

**T Minus 283 Days**

**Tuesday, Sept. 12**

**12:33 A.M.**

_Just tell me,_ Charles retorted, tired of Stephen Strange trying to protect him from the truth. He drummed his fingers on the chair of his wheelchair, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Erik wasn’t up. Erik still snuck around with his helmet on sometimes, trying to find out what secrets Charles kept. He’d definitely be suspicious as to why Charles was using Cerebro.

 _—Very well. It isn’t good news, though_ , Strange spoke in his head. _I’ve been able to delay Doom but it won’t hold long. Until July at the latest. The problem is that I sense he has other agents working for him. I don’t know who they are or what the plan is, but I know it’s bad._

 _Whatever he’s doing, it isn’t good,_ Charles agreed grimly. _Someone or something is blocking me from seeing him. I can’t get any further without modifying Cerebro, so you’ll have to continue investigating on your own._

 _—I understand. I_ will _get to the bottom of this, however I get the feeling we’ll need every hero we can get. Wade Wilson included. How is he doing, by the way? His first day of school was yesterday, correct?_

_Somehow, he and Peter are already connected. I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not._

_—Maybe Peter can teach him some responsibility. And he can teach Peter that Spider-Man and Peter Parker are one and the same, even if he feels like the opposite of a hero without his costume._

Charles grinned a little.

_You’re a wise man, Stephen. I truly hope it plays out the way you expect it to._

_—I feel with those two, there will definitely be more unexpected than expected._

Both men sighed.

 _You just keep investigating; let me worry about the boys,_ Charles advised, hands becoming fists on his chair. _One way or another, I’ll ensure that they’re both fit to fight in the upcoming war._

 

**T Minus 283 Days**

**Tuesday, Sept. 12**

**8:30 A.M.**

Peter ran a hand through his hair, straightening a rumpled shirt as he stood outside the school’s main entrance. His second week of school and he had already been late three times. This time was because a woman’s purse had been stolen and he’d had to struggle into the suit to swing through the streets and help her out. Deadpool had appeared halfway through and tripped the guy, making Peter’s job easier in one way but harder in another. Talking to Deadpool was always a weird chore that made either no sense or too much sense, depending on the occasion. This time had been no sense.

“Nice morning for catching criminals,” Deadpool had observed, inhaling deeply. “I love the smell of them shitting their pants in the morning. Should I shoot him?”

“No! No, absolutely no shooting,” Peter had protested quickly as Deadpool had reached for his belt. They had argued about it for a bit before Deadpool had run out of steam and pulled his suit back at his wrist to check a Hello Kitty watch. After screeching about how he was late for something, he’d given Peter a happy wave and took off. Leaving Peter hopelessly confused.

It had been Deadpool, but something had been off. He’d seemed smaller somehow, not in height but maybe less muscular. And his voice hadn’t sounded quite so rough, almost as if someone had taken his vocal cords and ironed them out. His quips were the same as ever, but… Well, there was just something Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on. Man, it was bad that he knew Deadpool so well he knew when there something off with the guy.

His phone went off, making him jump nearly a foot in the air. Drawing in a deep breath, he checked the number and groaned. Why now of all times?

“Yeah, hello?” he answered, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders against the berating he knew was coming.

“Really, kid? You put me down as your contact instead of your aunt?”

“You know she doesn’t get it,” Peter said with a wince, hopping from foot to foot. “It would just worry her a lot and I can’t do that to her. Please, Mr. Stark, I’d really like it if you could do this for me. I promise I’ll—”

“Okay, first of all, I’ve told you at least six times not to call me Mr. Stark. I’m not that old, am I? And second… Look, kid, if you were late a third time because you were out with friends, or you slept in, or it was some, like, _normal kid_ thing, it would be okay. But that’s not the reason is it?”

“I… uh…”

“I get that you want to be a hero, I really do. Put on the suit, kick some villain ass, save the world, right? But listen, Peter, after everything that’s happened with the Avengers, I’ve learned there’s more to being a hero than just the suit. You, especially, can do some good things as _yourself_. So go to school, get yourself an education, do some good as Peter, too. Be a kid for once.”

“Right,” Peter muttered, toeing at a crack in the pavement. Yeah, like his nerdy ass could make a difference. What kind of hero got his own ass kicked? Tony wanted him to mix those two lives up? No thanks.

“Moral of the story: stop being late. Got it?”

“Yep,” Peter said, scraping his shoe down the entire crack as he listened to Tony exhale in annoyance.

“Please. For once, listen to some advice from someone who’s made the same mistakes you’re making.”

They exchanged a few more short words before Peter hung up, shaking his head. Tony didn’t get it at all; he was born rich, had probably been the type of guy who’d never been bullied once in high school. Tony didn’t need to be a hero to feel useful to the world.

“Well would you look at that,” a voice laughed behind him, and Peter snapped out of his thoughts to find none other than Wade Wilson standing behind him, books tucked carelessly under an arm as if he were too cool for a backpack. Peter became way too conscious of his own backpack, a Star Wars thing Aunt May had bought for him in grade school. He’d considered upgrading but they didn’t really have the money, and he’d never been overly concerned about it. Until now.

 _“You have to become friends with him, which means you have to be slightly cooler than you are now,”_ he could hear Michele telling him the day before. _“The only one lower on the food chain than you and Ned is Giacomo Fortunato and that’s only because nobody has ever heard him say a word. Wade rocketed to the top on his first day, which means you have drag yourself up the chain to be a serious friend. It’s how this shitty little ecosystem we call high school works.”_

“Hey, Wade,” Peter greeted, forcing a smile he didn’t really feel. Wade seemed taken aback at his sudden friendliness, blinking a couple of times before a huge grin spread across his face. He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, making Peter immediately stiffen. It took everything he had not to shrug Wade’s arm off as the taller boy steered him to the door.

“I’ve got it,” Peter offered; if he was going to be as nice as possible, he may as well start holding doors like a good little friend.

“No, no, let me,” Wade responded, reaching for the handle at the same time. Peter moved quicker so he could grab it first, and Wade moved at the same time so that suddenly both of their hands were on the handle.

“Seriously, it’s cool, man,” Peter said through clenched teeth, trying to ease his white-knuckled grip on the door.

“I said I’ve got it, _bro_ ,” Wade shot back, his smile looking decidedly more strained.

“No,” Peter gritted out as he pulled on the door. “I’d like to do something nice for you, _dude._ ”

“Let the fucking handle go, _guy_ ,” Wade ordered, nice guy look gone.

“ _You_ let the freaking handle go.”

“I swear to god, I will end—”

“Are you seriously picking a fight with me right now?”

“I’m not picking a fight; I’m trying to be nice!”

“Then let the handle go so _I_ can be nice!”

“No fucking way! _You_ let it go!”

“How old are you? Five? Just let it go!”

“Hey! You’re holding it too, dumbass!”

“Just—”

Peter blew out a long hiss of breath through his teeth, releasing the handle and stepping back, holding both hands up. Wade eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and then something seemed to dawn in his eyes and he also stepped away from the door, mirroring Peter’s movements of holding both hands up.

“You know what? Go ahead, hold the door. Whatever makes you comfortable,” Wade said kindly. Peter narrowed his eyes, wondering if this whole thing was some sort of joke.

“No, you clearly want to hold the door, so go ahead,” Peter muttered, voice dripping sarcasm.

“You kept insisting too, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to be a jerk.”

They stared at each other, neither of them willing to give any ground. After what had to have been a full minute, Peter finally shook his head.

“What are we even doing?” he asked, the tension diffusing as he let out a huff of laughter. The morning had been so strange that all of the stress came out in an uncontrollable fit of giggling that bordered on hysterical. Wade took a step back, looking wary when Peter looked up, swiping at the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“Which brand of crazy are you? The no-name brand psychiatrists can’t label? The expensive brand the drug companies like? The word-of-mouth brand that’s genuinely concerning?” Wade asked, ticking them off on his fingers.

Peter dragged air in through his nose, straightening and shaking his head.

“It’s been a bad morning; I just needed to laugh to get it out. But this… us trying to be nice to each other and ending up angry… it isn’t going to work. If we want to be friendly, we need to come up with a plan.”

“Agreed,” Wade said immediately. Well, that was score one for Peter on the friend list. Michele would happy to hear Wade wanted to be friendly too, though a lot of the stuff in her plan involved getting dirt on Wade. Speaking of getting dirt, Peter realized this could be a perfect chance to start.

“So if we actually want to get to know each other—and I guess we should, since to tutor you we’ll have to spend some time together—how about we play a game?”

“Twister,” Wade suggested without missing a beat, cracking a wild grin. “Naked Twister.”

“You—I—just let me finish,” Peter mumbled, furiously trying to suppress a blush. Clearly he needed to spend more time with Deadpool so he could be more used to the sexual jokes when he was just Peter.

“I promise I would _definitely_ let you finish,” Wade beamed, and now Peter’s thoughts were becoming too incoherent for him to continue this conversation. He wrenched open the door and ducked inside, practically jogging to get to class. After a moment, he heard the sound of Wade’s footsteps behind him and a second later he was jerked back by his backpack. Stupid goddamn Star Wars piece of crap.

“Sorry, I’ll stop with the jokes for now,” Wade said close to his ear. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much better. “Tell me what kind of game you were thinking of, Petey. I honestly do want to be friends.”

_Do it for Michele. Do it for Ned. Do it for Liz. Yeah, for Liz._

“Fine. I was thinking we could do a kind of question game, like twenty questions but it goes on for the whole year,” Peter explained, ears burning. It sounded really childish now and he wondered if it was possible to get a superpower that allowed you to meld with a locker. To fade into nothingness so that you never had to feel embarrassed again. “Every time we see each other, we can each ask a personal question. And we have to answer honestly.”

Unless Wade asked if he was Spider-Man.

“Huh. I like it,” Wade said thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll go first. Are you Spider-Man?”

If you listened reaalllly close, you probably could’ve heard a tiny little snap. That was the sound of Peter’s mind finally breaking, freeing him from his mortal coil.

“Kidding!” Wade joked, and Peter’s soul snapped back to his body as he let out one of the most nervous, high-pitched laughs he’d ever heard in his life. Wade cringed.

“You need to work on that laugh, buddy. Anywho, my real question of the day… no, not that one, I said no sexual jokes… What’s your family like?”

Peter blinked, taken aback. That was pretty personal for the first question ever. He’d expected more of a ‘what’s your favourite colour’ or ‘what’s your favourite movie.’ Trust Wade to take it there right away.

“Well… there’s me, my aunt, and…” He paused. He had been about to say Tony Stark, as a kind of uncle, but that was crazy. Tony was a national celebrity, billionaire, and absolute freaking genius. There was no way a man like that considered Peter anywhere close to family, especially since Peter was only an honorary Avenger—no one considered him a full-time hero. “That’s it, really. Just us two.”

He could feel Wade’s eyes on his face, judging him, but he couldn’t force himself to look up and see what kind of judgement it was. He resumed walking, forcing Wade to follow to keep up with him.

“You don’t have any—”

“My turn,” Peter interrupted. Well, even if Wade wasn’t going to play it safe, Peter was. He couldn’t afford to get Wade’s suspicions up with super personal questions right at the beginning. “What are your goals for this school year?”

Wade groaned as they stopped outside of the classroom, looking like that was the last question in the world he wanted to answer.

“Seriously? There’s so much you could’ve asked and you chose that? You’re something fucking else, Petey. Okay, fine. My personal goals are to have as much fun as possible.” Wade leaned against the locker bank, fiddling with a lock and looking sulky as he replied. “But the people who sent me here have a different idea. They want me to have an average of… wait for it… eighty percent. Yes, you heard that right. Eighty. Not eighteen, like the percent of real meat in Mickey D’s burgers. Eighty.”

“That’s not bad,” Peter mused, thinking of the classes he’d heard Wade was in. Not that he’d checked up on Wade or anything; Michele had just made him memorize Wade’s schedule. First class science (biology to be exact), second was psychology (not with Peter), third was English (with Peter), and fourth was math (not). All in all, not too bad.

“Not bad? Are you fucking kidding me? I’d rather have cancer!”

“Uh, okay. That’s a little extreme. But if you want…” Peter paused, the full awareness of what he was about to offer hitting him. This was going to royally _suck_. “I can get you to an eighty.”

“Really?” Wade practically screeched, as Peter frantically waved his hands to get Wade to lower his voice. “You’ll do my assignments for me?”

“What? No. No! I mean, I can tutor you to an eighty.”

Wade’s elated expression went comically sad, and for a second Peter thought he was going to say no. After Peter had tossed and turned all night trying to come up with ways to make them friends. Peter tugged at his sleeves, a nervous habit, as he tried to imagine what other things he could do to get them together. His mind was a blank; he didn’t have many hobbies besides school and crime fighting.

“Fiiiiine,” Wade said finally, letting out an overly dramatic sigh. “I wasn’t planning on trying the whole academics thing, but I will for you. How are we going to do this?”

Peter internally let out a whoop of triumph. Then realized what he was celebrating and died a slow, painful death.

“First, we both have to come to class on time. Second, if you’re as far behind as you think, we’ll have to meet in the library at lunch every day.” _To keep you away from Liz._ “I’ll tutor you there.”

“Great. It’s a date!” Wade chirped, flinging the door open to the very annoyed face of the teacher.

“Wha—no. No, it’s not—Wade!”

Wade ignored him, coming up with some hilarious excuse about how he and Peter had helped a woman having a baby and did the teacher want to call her? Peter shook his head, already exhausted, and went to take his seat. Michele swivelled in hers and gave him a thumbs up, while Liz smiled adoringly as if Wade’s story about him and Peter was heroic.

Okay, so maybe the whole thing wasn’t _that_ bad.

 

**T Minus 283 Days**

**Tuesday, Sept. 12**

**11:01 A.M.**

“Wade! Hey!”

Wade spun to find his favourite feisty little chika hurrying to catch up with him, threading his arm through hers as they navigated the halls. It felt good being popular, people dipping their heads to him respectfully and hitting the walls whenever he walked by. It was like being Deadpool, except they weren’t staring in horror or hitting the walls in fear. Or were they? It was always hard to tell.

“Soooo… You and Peter. What’s up with that?” Liz asked, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one else heard. Wade couldn’t hold back a smile, thinking of the rumours he and Peter had already started. Some people thought that since they’d both come in late, they were banging. Wade had quickly put a rest to those since he didn’t want Peter’s rep to take a hit, but he could still sense suspicion.

“He offered to tutor me every lunch,” Wade said with all the satisfaction of a cat who’d drank spilled milk. Or a drunk cat. Both. A drunk cat who’d just drank spilled milk.

“Wow. You move fast,” Liz admired, arching a brow as Wade shrugged carelessly. Truth be told, he was interested in getting to know Peter after that whole fiasco with the door. Apparently Mr. Smarty-needs-tight-pants was more than just a pretty face with a huge brain and a penchant for kindness.

_Do he got the boot-ay?_

**We’re betting he do, but he keeps wearing baggy clothes. He’s got the whole thing going on for him.**

_Change his name to Gary Stu._

**Or better yet, change it to Mary Stu and put him in drag.**

At that mental image, Wade had to shift his books to his lap and think of dead puppies.

“Any tips?” he asked as he spied Peter arguing with the only girl he hadn’t managed to charm in the school. 

“Yes,” Liz breathed as she tugged on Wade’s arm to get him to stop. She reached up to adjust the jean jacket he’d stolen from Erik (with Charles’s endorsement of course; Charles said he was tired of Erik’s mid-life crisis). With a quick look at where Peter was leaning against his locker, she reached up and ran a hand through Wade’s hair to fluff it up with a snicker that lit up her whole face. “No sex jokes.”

“Oh come _on_.”

“Be yourself except for the sex jokes. Peter’s pretty innocent and I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend before. Or a boyfriend, if he’s into that too, which I think he is.”

“You think?” Wade asked critically, looking over to where Michele was messing with Peter’s hair. When he looked back at Liz and saw her watching, he felt almost nervous. There was an interested glint in her eyes that reminded him too much of Vanessa when she’d thought about doing something kinky.

“You forget that the squad and I have been watching Peter for a while. It isn’t just girls he looks at like a puppy, though I’m not sure he’s noticed himself. Be gentle with him.”

“I’ll try,” Wade muttered as Liz released him at the same time Michele released Peter. They met in the middle of the hall, and before Peter could get a word out in greeting Wade spoke first.

“Does your aunt have a boyfriend?”

Peter looked startled, and then he caught on and shook his head ruefully.

“Nope. Where are you from?”

“A vagina in Regina.”

_It’s been less than one minute._

**We need a Sex Jokes Anonymous if we’re going to continue hanging out with this cinnamon roll.**

_Do not use that term._

**Why—oh. Right. You eat cinnamon rolls.**

Wade realized he and Peter had both been staring at each other with fake smiles frozen on their faces, Peter just as lost in thought as Wade. Well, probably with fewer voices in his head.

“O-kay,” Peter said finally. “Right. So… library?”

“Yep. Library.”

They walked in a silence that somehow became awkward. Wade was used to breaking the silence by cracking jokes, but for some reason he sort of wanted to make a good impression on Peter. Whew. He’d thought he left behind the whole giving-a-shit-about-what-people-thought in like grade two. With maybe a brief break when he’d met Vanessa.

“Tell me—” Peter began at the same time Wade said “What are we—”

Peter winced, his ears going red as he ducked his head.

**This is fucking brutal.**

_Make a joke about something._

**Our jokes are off limit. They’re all innuendos.**

_There’s that one Vanessa told us._

“Shut up,” Wade said under his breath. He didn’t want to think about Vanessa, didn’t even want the voices talking about her. He had no idea where the sudden influx of thoughts about her was coming from, but it needed to stop. He was here to have fun and/or learn. Mostly the fun and the or.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered, one of the weirdest expressions Wade had ever seen on someone’s face making his features all screwy. He half looked like he was pissed enough to hit someone, and half like he regretted speaking. Wow. Maybe he had voices in his head too.

“Wasn’t talking to you, Petey,” Wade sang, spinning so he was walking backwards and could get a full view of Peter’s face. “You, I want to talk. What were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask what you knew about biology,” Peter said with a shrug. “Like, the cell for example.”

“The cell! Fuck, I know about the cell. Smallest thing in the world, makes up people and plants.”

“Actually, the smallest known thing in the world is probably a quark or lepton,” Peter stated, assuming a lecturing tone. “The cell is actually one of the biggest small things in the world. Depending on what kind of cell, of course. Megakaryocytes are pretty massive, whereas mycoplasma gallicepticums are super tiny.”

Wade had no idea what Peter had just said, but his tolerance for big words had rocketed up about two thousand percent. The way Peter’s tongue moved over the word ‘gallicepticums’ made him want to become a scientist. _You know, explore undiscovered terrain. Hint, hint, wink, wink._

“Stop,” Peter commanded as they got to the library. Wade forced his eyes to Peter’s face, where his eyebrows were doing impressive gymnastics.

“Stop what?”

“Stop staring at my mouth like that. It’s freaking me out.”

High school was teaching Wade so much about willpower and overcoming the desire to talk about putting things in mouths. If there was one thing he’d picked up from psychology, it was that the big wig Freud guy everyone was talking about would definitely classify him as having an oral fixation. Wade liked Freud. He seemed like a cool dude.

“Anything else you know about the cell?” Peter whispered as they chose a table with only one other person as opposed to entire groups crowded around laughing and shoving each other. This table was the farthest away from humanity as it could get, tucked in behind two massive bookshelves with books that looked like they’d come from Strange’s personal library. The Restricted Section. Turn to page three hundred and ninety four.

“There’s not much else to know, is there?”

“Here’s an easy one. What’s the difference between plant cells and animal cells?”

“You’re right. That is easy. Plant cells come from plants. Animal cells come from animals.”

Peter stared. To his right, the other guy at the end of the table stared. Wade looked between both of them and shrugged.

“Do you even know the parts that make up the cell? Mitochondria, ribosomes, nucleus, all of those?”

“Mito… what? Sounds Japanese. Isn’t that the name of some guy in a visual novel?”

“L-let’s try math. You know math, right?” Peter stammered, sounding kind of desperate. “You’re in advanced functions. So how do you find the equation for a parabola?”

“Para-who?”

“A line.”

“Of cocaine?”

“Do you know what sine is?”

“…Which one? The song I Saw The Sign by Ace of Base or a Stop sign at the end of the road?”

“If you had a triangle, how would you find one side when you have all of the others?”

“I wouldn’t. It sounds pointless. Ha! Pointless.”

Peter’s head hit the table with a loud thunk, causing the people laughing loudly nearby to look up and shush him.

“Good luck, Peter,” a voice scarcely more than the air hissing out of a hot pocket whispered. Peter dragged his head up from the table to stare incredulously at the boy who’d spoken. Wade didn’t see what the big deal was, unless the kid had just set some sort of record for talking in such a low voice.

“Thanks, Giacomo,” Peter whispered back, and Wade was suddenly jealous of how awed Peter sounded.

“Jimmy,” the boy breathed before gathering up his stuff and leaving. Peter’s eyes followed him out, round as saucers.

“He-llo. Earth to tutor. Do I need to call the brain doctor in?”

Wade waggled his fingers in front of Peter’s eyes. Peter jerked back to awareness, turning those awed eyes on Wade.

“In all four years of high school, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard him talk,” Peter blurted out. “I honestly thought he was mute.”

Wade cast a glance over his shoulder to where Jimmy had disappeared, nodding appreciatively.

“So what you’re saying is, when we get together miracles happen?”

“That’s probably going to be the first and last miracle that ever happens with us,” Peter muttered as he snagged Wade’s textbook and turned it back to the very beginning. Introduction. Not page three hundred and ninety four. “You’d better pray for another one, though, because that’s what we’re going to need to get you an eighty.”

“Pray? Nah. The only thing I have faith in is your… uh, brain.”

“Lovely, Wade. Nice catch. Now let’s start at the very beginning of grade nine. The cell is the smallest structural and functional unit of the organism, typically consisting of…”

 

**T Minus 280 Days**

**Friday, Sept. 15**

**10:23 A.M.**

“You don’t understand,” Peter begged, actually placing his hands in front of him to make himself look more pathetic. “He doesn’t know basic grade nine math. I basically have to teach him all of high school and it’s killing me.”

“Yes, you look completely dead,” Michele said dryly without looking up. Today was Lord of the Flies day, apparently, which according to Michele meant every man for himself. Never mind women, though; now that Peter had stolen away with Wade to study in the library, Michele and Liz were actually making progress. They’d been together walking the halls several times and discussing who knew what.

“You say that because you get to chill with Liz. If I could just have one day with her…”

“Peter.” Michele set her book down, though kept one hand resting on the cover. “You’re a strong, independent man—”

“At least one of those isn’t true.”

“Fine. You’re a strong, independent woman. You’ve got this.”

She picked her book up again, content to ignore his chattering.

“At least I have you,” Peter told Ned, who looked up from where he was playing some sort of RPG on his phone. “Sorry about the not hanging out with you at lunch thing, though. If you want, you can come chill with Wade and I.”

“Dude, now that I don’t have you bothering me about Liz at lunch, my playtime has increased by an entire hour. Another couple of lunches and I’ll have Chrono Trigger beat for the second time.”

“Does no one need me?” Peter protested. Ned and Michele exchanged a single glance before Michele shrugged nonchalantly. Ned, the more sympathetic of the two, patted Peter’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Wade needs you,” he reminded Peter, which wasn’t nearly as comforting as it was supposed to sound. Peter crossed his legs and leaned back on the bench the three of them were sprawled out on, placing his head on Michele’s lap and his feet on Ned’s. Unlike Wade, who needed to meet some sort of basic requirement since he’d never been in the school system, they were all on spare. Most times Peter would use it to study, but for once he was all studied out. He contented himself by reaching up to braid a stray piece of Michele’s hair. She frowned down at him.

“You’re the gayest person I’ve ever met,” she informed him. “And I’ve met myself. What does that tell you?”

“That everybody you meet is bisexual, because I am definitely, one hundred percent a manly man,” Peter shot back. Michele finally set her book down fully, actually taking her hands off of it as she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“Really? Show me.”

That would be difficult. As Peter debated on how he would do that, Michele suddenly reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, flipping it up to reveal his bare chest.

“See, you’re—”

She stopped talking.

Ned looked up, then put his game down, snapping upright.

“What the hell,” Michele said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Is this some sort of a joke?” Ned choked out. As one, they reached out and poked at Peter’s stomach, making him bolt up and jump off of the bench to smooth his shirt down. He tugged the hem and sleeves as far as they could go, shaking his head.

“Guys—”

“You have a six pack.” Michele’s voice sounded kind of strangled, and Peter wondered for a second if she was about to lose her shit. “This whole time, you’ve had a six pack. And you didn’t tell us?”

“Why would I _tell_ you?”

“ _This_ is why you get changed in a bathroom stall instead of with the rest of the guys?” Ned asked incredulously. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. Peter got dressed in the stalls because he’d noticed Flash staring at the bruises he’d gotten from fighting Norman Osborn one day, and he didn’t want to deal with questions. That’s when it had started. Since then… okay, maybe he’d wanted to hide his six pack. Nerds didn’t usually sport muscles, especially ones that got pushed around.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Peter pointed out, thinking he was being helpful. Michele was already on her phone, fingers flying at the speed of light.

“Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Ned, you, and I are going shopping for some new clothes. I’m not letting you walk around in oversized shirts that don’t show off your goods, not when you’re trying to be friends with one of the most popular guys in school.”

“Cool,” Ned piped up, while Peter shook his head helplessly.

“No way. I like my shirts, and besides, I can’t really afford it. A whole new wardrobe is crazy expensive. What’s wrong with oversized clothes anyway? _You_ wear them!”

Michele held out her hand, gesturing for Peter to hand over his phone. “And do I give a shit about what people think? No. You, on the other hand, are always out to please. Trust me on this.”

Peter made a face as he handed over his phone, wondering exactly what Michele planned to do. He watched her face as she flicked through it, scanning texts or pictures or whatever it was she was looking for.

“You only have five contacts.”

“And? As far as I’ve heard, there’s nothing wrong with not having many friends. I feel like one of the two of us is being hypocritical and it isn’t me.”

Michele’s thumb flicked over a button and she brought the phone up to her ear.

“Your last text was from your aunt telling you to pick up milk. Two weeks ago. Sad.”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled as even Ned gave him a look of pure sympathy. “Who are you calling anyway?”

Michele held up her finger, tapping a sneaker on the ground as she waited. Peter mentally ran through his list of contacts, then wondered if she was prank-calling someone not on his list. It wasn’t like there was anyone on there she knew, except for Ned and herself. So then…

“Mr. Stark? Yeah, hello, my name’s Michele Gonzalez.”

Peter froze up, mouth dropping open. Ned’s reaction was the same, and they must’ve made quite the pair because Michele smirked as she stood up, crossing her arms and pacing while she spoke.

“Uh-huh. I’m a friend of his. …No. No. Well I’m gay so that’s not going to happen. …Uh-huh. …Yeah, he totally does. Trust me on that one. …You want to do that, you tell him yourself. His name is Wade Wilson.”

Peter’s expression of shock morphed into one of horror. What was Michele even saying? He could only imagine the questions Tony would ask one of his friends.

“…I think so. Right. It’ll work, but I need your help. …Yeah, that too. But no, your... what do you call him? Nephew? Godson? …Oh. That’s kind of cute, actually. Okay, let’s go with that. Alright, so he’s a fashion disaster and we both know it. …Exactly. Yeah. …No he won’t be. Just a couple of other friends. …Yeah. Well, it was nice talking to you. …Oh, Wade? I don’t know. He’s definitely the kind of—Probably. You’re Iron Man, I doubt you need a shotgun. …Okay. Yeah. Bye.”

Michele hung up and handed the phone back to Peter, looking as if the entire interaction had exhausted her.

“Fuck, I hate phones. Anyway. Tony Stark says he’s going to send you a credit card to get a new wardrobe.”

“What did you say to him?” Peter yelped at the same time as Ned yelped “Tony Stark?”

“Having the conversation the first time tired me out. As if I’ll repeat it again,” Michele deadpanned as both boys begged her for more info. She wouldn’t budge, content to text quicker than Peter could read until it was almost time for the bell to ring. The only question she answered was how she knew Peter knew Tony, which apparently had been a rumour that she’d decided to confirm or deny when she’d taken his phone.

“Liz is also coming,” Michele informed them as Peter tried to tell her for the seventeenth time that he couldn’t go clothes shopping. He paused mid-tirade, hesitating. Maybe he did need a new wardrobe, and Aunt May was so worried about his social life 24/7 that she’d be happy to see him get out. Plus, he’d done tons of studying with Wade, and Tony would expect him to go out if Tony was paying…

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”

“That a boy.”

Michele slapped his shoulder proudly as he rolled his eyes, peering down the hall to see who had overheard. At the end of the hall, a crowd of guys had surrounded a lone figure who was walking with his head down, eyes on the ground as he shook so hard his shaking was visible from where Peter was standing. Peter felt a sharp stab of sympathy as he nudged Michele and Ned.

“One condition, though,” he said as the bullies laughed and split away from Giacomo to head to the bathroom.

“If it is what I think it is, the answer is yes,” Michele said, her eyes following Giacomo as he stopped dead in the middle of the hall, then shook his head and turned around to leave the school. Peter nodded, exchanging glances with his friends before he ran to catch up with the guy at the end of the hall.

“Gia… Jimmy! Wait up!”

 

**T Minus 280 Days**

**Friday, Sept. 15**

**2:35 P.M.**

“How was your first week?” Liz asked as Wade grabbed a Walmart bag from his locker and slammed it shut. Today was a very important anniversary, and the gift in the Walmart bag had to be protected at all costs. He swung it over his shoulder, turning to where Liz, Flash, and a couple of other top tier kids waited for his answer.

“It was like making love to a rabid wolverine. Painful and difficult, yet ultimately satisfying,” Wade quipped, sending the girls into a fit of giggles and the guys into raucous laughs. Everyone except for Flash, who looked at Liz and seemed as uncomfortable as if _he_ were the one who’d stuck his dick into a rabid wolverine.

“And Parker?” he asked, clearly hoping for Wade to lose points with Liz by dissing Peter. “How was he?”

How _was_ Peter Parker, tutor extraordinaire and supreme overlord of the nerds? Wade had spent the week poring over textbooks with him, and somehow was no closer to finding out who was hurting him. He now knew Peter’s favourite subject was physics, he spent his time after school helping his aunt with chores, his celebrity crush was Lana Del Rey, and his favourite band was Arctic Monkeys. Beyond that… he tugged at his sleeves when he was nervous, he sometimes sang sappy love songs under his breath, and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he talked about science.

“He’s a good tutor,” Wade said, ignoring Flash’s implications. It was disturbing that there wasn’t much he could find to insult Peter on beyond the fact that he lacked confidence and got flustered too easily. It was almost like Wade was starting to like the kid, which definitely hadn’t been part of the plan. Peter was supposed to start liking _him,_ not the other way around.

“Good?” Liz snorted, absentmindedly threading her fingers with Flash’s. “Knowing him, he’s probably the best damn tutor in the world.”

“Let’s just say that if mental gymnastics were a sport, Petey would be a world-class coach.”

That seemed to satisfy her as their group shoved through the halls, some of Flash’s friends pushing kids out of the way. Wade checked his phone, scrolling through unanswered texts from Charles asking how his day was going and mentally sighing when there was nothing from Peter. They’d exchanged numbers today in case Wade had any questions, and since Wade was sure he’d been a smooth motherfucker (not literally, he wasn’t into necrophilia) he’d thought Peter would’ve texted him by now. But nope. Nada.

**We’re a high school boy, not a high school girl.**

_Boys want texts from their crushes too._

“I so do not have a crush,” Wade said loudly, which earned him a few nervous stares. Eh. He didn’t really give a shit how people saw him anymore, not when he’d found that most of the popular kids talked about sports and fashion. Sure, playing with balls was great, but talking about it 24/7? And who cared about fashion when the real goods were underneath the clothes? Wade already wanted to be back at Sister Margaret’s, talking booze, guns, and chicks under a cloud of smoke that wasn’t entirely nicotinic. Nicotinic: a word he’d learned from Peter that meant Peter’s tongue touched the top of his mouth and flicked down on two n’s in an extremely distracting way. Yeah, this was fucking with his head. He needed to get out.

“Hey, it’s Fatty G Chump-mo!” one of Flash’s goons called, and a bunch of people burst into laughter when the guy Peter had said never spoke stopped walking. Just froze up in the middle of the hall as if he couldn’t take another step forward.

“Fatty G, Fatty G, where’s that lunch money you gotta bring me?” one of them taunted, and another grabbed the kid’s jacket and slammed him against a locker, rattling the entire bank. Wade supposed he should do something, since he fought for justice and yadda yadda yadda, but Liz was the angel of hopeless cases. And sure enough, she looked furious as she stepped forward. Only to be cut off by a quiet, angry little, “Stop.”

The hall fell silent and everyone turned to stare in astonishment at Flash, whose lips were curled in disgust as he watched his friends shove Jimmy between them.

“You’re kidding, right?” Generic Dumb Jock #1 asked.

“It’s Fatty G,” Generic Dumb Jock #2 said in exasperation. “What’s the problem?”

“You guys are being assholes. Just let him go,” Flash muttered. There was a moment of tension that probably would’ve had much more significance to Wade if he’d watched Flash pick on Jimmy all throughout high school just to stick up for him now. Instead, it didn’t have much of an impact, and Wade took a Ring-Pop out of his pocket, sliding it onto his index finger and sucking on it as he watched the show.

“Whatever,” Generic Dumb Jock #1 growled as he gave Jimmy one last shove. “We’ll get you next time.”

Flash didn’t say anything more, but nobody missed the pleasantly surprised look Liz shot him or the way she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. Not Wade, not Jimmy, and not Peter, who looked sort of devastated as he spun on his heel and marched out the front door. Wade popped the Ring-Pop from his mouth and chased after Peter, bursting out into the sunlight to find there was way too many students going to the school. He couldn’t spot Petey anywhere, and after a few minutes of futile searching, he gave up. Maybe he could text him or—

“Yo! There’s a bank robbery just down the street!” one of the art students yelled, and a crowd gathered around him as if they’d all just forgotten their own phones. “Hostages and everything. The cops are playing it safe, but it’s obvious they’re waiting for Spider-Man.”

Wade frowned, lifting up a hand to squint the way the kid had gestured. He’d only gotten involved in the simplest crimes for the past week, ones where guns and other weapons hadn’t been involved. If he got shot, there wouldn’t be such an easy out this time. But Spidey faced those same conditions every day, and Wade couldn’t let him go to a hostage situation all alone. Not to mention he had to give the Walmart bag to Spidey since it was their anniversary.

Making sure no one was going to follow him, Wade bolted into the nearest alley and started changing behind a dumpster, struggling with the suit and taking altogether too long. At one point he heard someone amble up near the dumpster and had to shout, “Go away! This is my dumpster!” then finish zipping up while he had a ten minute conversation about whose dumpster it was. When he was finally dressed, he came out to find a very greasy personification of genital warts glaring at him with one milky white eye.

“Fine, keep the dumpster, jackass,” he said as he strode past them. He wasn’t entirely sure if they were male or female under all that grease, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was saving Spidey.

It took him five minutes to get to the bank, sneaking around cops and opting to go in through the top window someone (definitely Spidey) had conveniently left open. What he saw when he got to the main floor of the bank was… disturbing.

“—knew you’d be coming,” the robber was saying, pistol levelled at Spidey’s head. “I don’t give a shit about the money. All I care about is capping you. You put my brother behind bars and you ain’t putting anyone else there. Not now, not ever.”

“You can do what you want, but let these people go,” Spidey said in a loud, clear voice. The pistol didn’t seem to faze him much, which Wade assumed was because he had spotted Wade creeping around behind the counters. The problem was that Spidey most likely expected him to take a bullet, which he always did, and this time he couldn’t do that. He also couldn’t let Spidey get shot though.

“Whatever. They all can all go except this kid.” The robber grabbed a little girl by the back of her shirt, hauling her up and pressing the gun to her temple. “She stays in case the cops wanna try anything funny. Rest of you, get the _fuck_ out.”

Everyone moved at once, giving Wade the chance to inch a little closer to a vantage point he could shoot the robber from without being seen. That little girl would be an issue. He couldn’t shoot without the gun being far away from her temple in case the guy didn’t die right away. He’d have to wait for Spidey to give him an opening.

“There. They’re all gone. Just let her go and we’ll talk,” Spidey pleaded, though he never moved his hands from their position above his head. The robber must’ve told him he wasn’t allowed to do anything with them.

“Nah. Not yet. First, before I do anything, I want you to take off your mask. I want to see the man who ruined my brother’s life by sending him to jail. Who you really are.”

Spidey fell silent, and Wade could only imagine the buckets he was sweating beneath that suit. Wade himself had to wipe at the sheen of perspiration on his upper lip, lifting his mask as he debated on how he could take this guy down. He knew he could do it with Spidey’s help, but none of his plans guaranteed the safety of the little girl. Shit. Shitfuck. This was a bad anniversary.

“…If I do this, you promise me you’ll let her go?”

**No, Spidey.**

_Obviously he won’t. He’s lying. Don’t do it._

**This isn’t how we’re supposed to find out.**

“On my brother’s life.”

Spidey moved slowly, keeping one hand above his head while the other dropped to his mask, fingers slipping into the seam. Wade’s eyes were riveted on the scene, his trigger finger itching to do something as Spidey started pulling the mask up to reveal a strip of pale, smooth skin. For once, Wade wasn’t thinking about how much he’d like to lick that skin. Instead, he was thinking that this was so wrong. All wrong.

“Hurry up!” the robber snapped, and with a neat flick of wrist, Spidey tugged the mask up all the way to reveal—

Wade had no idea. He’d clapped a hand over his eyes so he wouldn’t see, unable to bear the thought of Spidey revealing himself under these circumstances. In his daydreams, there was always way more flower petals. And glitter. Maybe unicorns.

“Jesus. Seriously? You’re a—”

Something that sounded like the entire roof caving in suddenly echoed around Wade and he winced as a chunk of probably plaster hit his shoulder. Was this it? Had Spidey been planning this all along? Still, he didn’t look. He heard the sound of a pained shout, a thump, and a gunshot, but he kept his face covered the entire time.

“Spidey?!” he called, raising his head from the counter with his eyes closed. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t look!” came Spidey’s voice back, sounding muffled. Wade waited until he couldn’t anymore, feeling his way over the counter and then walking across the floor, heedless of bullets, with one hand stretched out as he felt for Spidey. His hand hit something cold. And metal.

“Who the hell are you?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and this time Wade couldn’t take it anymore. He took his hands away from his eyes to see none other than Iron Man. Full suit, glow-y eyes, shiny colours, the whole shebang.

“Oooh, you’re the _other_ man with balls of steel,” Wade admired, as Iron Man stared at him. A second later, Spidey popped out from behind him, looking tiny beside the hulking suit. At least he was fully masked. The little girl who’d had the gun to her head clung to Spidey’s side, arms wrapped around one of his legs as if she’d never let go.

“DILF,” Wade said immediately, and Iron Man made a sound that was suspiciously close to a grizzly bear’s growl.

“Kidding! Jeez, are you his dad or something? Anyway, I’m glad we’re all okay. Spidey, since it’s our second anniversary, I got you a present.”

“Second anniversary?” Spidey asked in confusion.

“Are you two married?” the little girl whispered, eyes round as saucers as she looked between Wade and Spidey. “Are you two daddies together?”

Wade crouched down so he was eye level with her and assumed his most serious tone.

“Yes.”

“Deadpool!” Spidey yelped as Wade snickered. Iron Man grabbed him by the head and lifted him a full foot off the ground, managing to convey his lack of amusement even through ten inches of iron.

“No, they’re not,” Iron Man— _who’s actually Tony Stark, so let’s just call him by name since everyone knows that_ —said. “In fact, Deadpool isn’t ever going to make those kinds of jokes about Spider-Man again. Or come near him. Or look at him. Isn’t that right, Deadpool?”

Oh, how he wished he had his healing factor now.

“I’m going to say yes but I’m going to very obviously cross my fingers so Spidey isn’t offended.”

“It’s cool, Mr… uh, Iron Man,” Spidey spluttered. “It’s just his personality.”

Tony squeezed Wade’s head so hard he saw pink elephants, and then set him down with a look that was six feet of pure menace. Huh. So this was how it felt to mess around with someone’s kid. Fun.

“What did you mean by anniversary, anyway?”

“We met two years ago to the day,” Wade said proudly as he held out the Walmart bag he’d been carting around for nearly a week. “I marked it on my calendar.”

Spidey cautiously accepted the bag, then opened it after realizing neither Wade nor Tony were going to leave until he did. Wade could feel Tony radiating with disapproval the entire time.

“Oh, a stuffed unicorn… Um. Nice.” That was the exact reason Wade had picked the thing out; not because he’d thought Spidey would like it, but because he knew Spidey probably wouldn’t and would pretend to anyway. “Thanks, Deadpool.”

“No problem. Happy anniversary, Baby Boy.”

Before Tony could grab him again, Wade blew a quick kiss then took off, listening to the sound of Tony (tamely) swear behind him as Spidey tried to calm him down. So, Tony Stark knew Spidey on a personal level. That was interesting; Wade would have to explore that.

Of course, this weekend he’d be too busy exploring the vast depths of his textbooks to do much more. But someday!

…Heh. Who was he kidding? He’d need to do a lot more studying if he wanted to impress Peter by the end of the semester. Spidey would just have to wait.

 

**T Minus 279 Days**

**Saturday, Sept. 16**

**10:01 A.M.**

“Are you sure you don’t need a lunch?”

“Aunt May, seriously, they’re all waiting for me. I love you and thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”

Aunt May grinned ruefully, smoothing Peter’s hair back and planting a kiss in the middle of his forehead.

“Alright, fine. You go out there and be a teenage boy. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Peter rolled his eyes as she laughed, opening the door for him to leave. When he’d first asked her if it would be okay for him to go out with friends, she had literally jumped for joy. To her, it was the first sign of a social life she’d thought had died with Harry, M.J., and Gwen. When he’d told her it was for a new wardrobe, she’d been ecstatic. He really should bring more people over.

Jogging out to the car, he was relieved to spot Jimmy tucked in the backseat beside Ned, while Liz was turned around in the front chatting to them and Michele was leaning on the horn. He’d made it a point to be nice to the most bullied kid in the school, and it was great to finally see him out with people.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter apologized as he slid in beside Jimmy.

“If you weren’t the guest of honour, I would’ve left without you,” Michele said as she gunned the engine. Peter realized a second too late he should’ve asked who was driving, as Michele peeled out of her parking spot on the street and rocketed towards the city’s downtown.

“So what kind of clothes are you looking for, Peter?” Liz asked, looking gorgeous in a new top that somehow worked with her skin tone, eyes, hair, and personality all at once. “Michele said you wanted a new wardrobe but she didn’t say what you wanted.”

He caught Michele’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, staring daggers as if disagreement would get him beheaded.

“J-just, something… uh, different.” Brilliant. He was so brilliant he wasn’t able to string together a three word sentence in front of her. “Maybe something like what Flash wears?”

“No,” Michele groaned. “What you need isn’t to look like them. You need to look like _yourself_. You’re going to find a style you like today, and it’s going to be different than them because you’re you. You’re going to feel confidence dressing on the outside how you feel on the inside.”

“Plaid shirts,” Ned piped up, slipping his phone away. “He’s a plaid shirts and hipster jokes kind of guy.”

“Very true,” Peter agreed, finding it easier to talk around Liz in a group. “I mean, brand names are great and all. You Liz… um. You pull them off very well.”

“Pete, we’re here for _you_ ,” Liz said. She turned to Jimmy, who had been staring blankly out the window as if he didn’t understand a single thing going on around him. “What do you think, Jimmy? What kind of clothes should Peter wear?”

Jimmy turned flat eyes on Peter, giving him a cursory up and down while everyone waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

“Button ups. Alone, sweaters over them, either way. Probably khaki pants or jeans with sneakers.”

“I can see it,” Ned admitted, and everyone began talking at once, none of them making a big deal out of the fact that Jimmy had talked. Peter joined the conversation and arguments, keeping an eye on Jimmy the whole time. He actually got involved, throwing a couple of ideas in, and Peter smiled to himself. Goal of the day: get the guy to smile.

“What Peter needs,” Michele spoke over top of the arguing, everyone’s voices dying away to listen, “is to walk with confidence. You can’t just dress the dress; you gotta walk the walk and talk the talk. Ned, hit me up with songs he can play in his head while he’s walking.”

“There’s really only one,” Ned said, taking his phone out and shaking it for everyone to see. “I put this song on once during spare and he got up and started dancing. I mean, seriously dancing.”

“Ned,” Peter moaned, covering his face with his hands. “No. I thought we agreed not to talk about that?”

“He sang it at the top of his lungs and did a dance that rivalled every cheerleader’s in the school,” Ned continued, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “My boy did me proud. I promise you this will get him in the mood.”

“Ned!” Peter practically shrieked, then leaned over Jimmy to try to snatch the phone away before Ned could play it in front of Liz. The entire car erupted into shouts as Ned and Peter struggled for the phone, Ned finally winning when Jimmy stuck out a restraining arm to hold Peter back. Peter sank in his seat, then sank lower when Ned hit the button and the song actually began to play. The second the first note hit, everyone lost it. Even Jimmy chuckled as Peter buried his head in his arms, never wanting to look up again.

“That’ll work,” Michele said slyly, fighting a smile. She and Liz gave each other one of those secret-girl-side-eye things that mad Peter fidget uncomfortably. At least it had made Jimmy laugh, though there wasn’t much else going for it besides that.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Peter grumbled, and the rest of the day actually went by pretty smoothly. They hit store after store, everyone suggesting things that Peter should buy with Tony’s credit card. At first he tried to keep the cost low, but a call from Tony berating him for buying cheap clothing had him splurging way more money than he’d ever thought he’d use on clothes in a lifetime. Jimmy’s suggestions were the best, though Peter kept almost buying things Liz suggested and only stopping when Michele dragged him aside and asked if he really liked it. They got ice cream together in between, and at one point Wade texted him, which made everyone crowd around as if it were the most amazing thing they’d ever seen.

“Read it out loud,” Liz whispered in hushed awe, and Peter shook his head as he read what Wade had sent him. If it had been anyone else but Liz suggesting it, he would’ve said absolutely not.

“ _If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, how would you want me? Smooth or rough?_ ”

There was a collective groan, but Peter actually burst out laughing.

“Do you seriously find that funny?” Michele asked. “That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s biology,” Peter answered, as if that were any explanation. To him it was. Biology pickup lines were some of the only few that didn’t make him cringe, even if they were sexual.

“Wait, wait, he just texted again.”

Everyone crowded around, peering over his shoulder. This time Ned read it out loud, doing his best Wade impression.

“ _I think your ligase is working on my okazaki fragment because you’re lengthening my strand._ ”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Liz laughed incredulously. “Pete, you have to answer him. Hit him with a pickup line then don’t talk to him all weekend. Trust me.”

Peter grinned, actually feeling slightly nervous, even though he couldn’t keep a stupid smile off his face. He’d learned a lot about Wade in the past week; Wade was Canadian, obsessed with chimichangas, completely in love with Bea Arthur, and had watched Adventure Time seventeen times with no regrets. He also had the funniest laugh, couldn’t shut up once you got him talking, and was a surprisingly quick learner. Peter knew his job was to get dirt on the guy but… Well, he could enjoy himself, couldn’t he?

“Okay, okay, I got this,” Peter yelled over everyone shouting out pickup lines. He bit his lower lip, working it between his teeth to try to hold back a smile.

“If I’m DNA helicase, you should be DNA.”

Sent.

Jimmy got it first, and actually started crying he was laughing so hard, one of those silent-trying-to-hold-it-in-but-failing kind of laughs. They all waited for Wade’s next text, and Peter was so caught up in it that he didn’t even notice Liz had her chin on his shoulder.

“Why?” Michele read Wade’s next text, and Ned got it a second later, letting out a low whistle.

“So I can unzip your genes,” Peter said aloud.

Sent.

“DID YOU JUST—”

“You’re a smooth bastard, Parker.”

“Nice, Peter.”

“Hash tag: relationship goals.”

Everyone was speaking at once so that Peter wasn’t even sure who said what, and it got so loud they ended up kicked out of the ice cream parlour, everyone practically jumping on him to see Wade’s response. Which was a bunch of incoherent exclamation marks, then a question of whether it was really Peter on the other end or not.

“Okay, don’t answer,” Liz advised, Michele nodding beside her. “Wait until Monday, when you see him next. Then walk in with new confidence and your new style, and bam! You’ve got him.”

“Got him for… what?” Peter choked out, wondering why the girls were exchanging such amused glances. Even Ned and Jimmy seemed in on it, Ned offering Jimmy a fist bump.

“Being ‘friends.’” This said by Michele, who made air quotations around the word friends. He wasn’t sure if it was about their plan to wreck Wade or something else. It made him sweat more bullets than when the bank robber had pointed a gun at his head the previous day.

“Trust us, Peter.”

Well. When Liz said it like that, there really wasn’t much else he could do. So they spent the rest of the day together, everyone having fun, and when Peter went to bed that night after playing Just Dance with Aunt May he had a feeling things may not end up the way he’d expected. Would he really wreck Wade? It was hard to tell.

For some reason, at this point he kind of felt like Wade would be the one to wreck him.

 

**T Minus 277 Days**

**Monday, Sept. 18**

**8:12 A.M.**

It started out with a song. Someone pulled up in a sweet silver Corolla with their windows rolled down and the song blasting. It was so loud it turned heads all over the school lawn, conversations dying away as the driver door opened. Michele Gonzalez stepped out in shades, leaving her car on to play the song while she blew the biggest bubble Wade had ever seen, then popped it without a single piece of gum sticking to her face.

“Rock out,” she deadpanned, all eyes focused on her in confusion while another, younger Gonzalez quickly slipped out the backseat so none of the attention would be focused on him. And then Michele brought her fist up and rapped twice on the top of her car, hard and sharp.

The passenger door opened and the music swelled even louder.

♩ _Oh Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind; Hey, Mickey,  hey Mickey_ ♩

Peter Parker got out, hair gelled back, dressed in a form-fitting button down and khaki pants. He faced straight ahead, aviator Ray-Bans hiding his eyes as he slung a sleek black satchel over his shoulder and started to walk across the lawn. Every single person in the school stared.

♩ _Oh Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind; Hey, Mickey, hey Mickey_ ♩

Yes. Yes, he had the booty, and besides that he actually a body. Like, he wasn’t the skinny kid he masqueraded as underneath triple extra-large tee shirts and baggy jeans. He had an ass that could fit on a dime, shoulders made for climbing on, and slender hips God had sent down from heaven for the sole purpose of having arms wrapped around them.

♩ _Oh Mickey you're so pretty can't you understand? It's guys like you Mickey!_ ♩

**I want that.**

_We can’t just—_

**_I want that._ **

Wade agreed with the first voice for once. He wanted that. It didn’t matter that Peter’s face was an entirely new shade of red that had never been seen on earth before, or that he was clearly struggling not to hunch his shoulders against the attention. He spotted Wade staring and Wade couldn’t help but think of the two texts he’d received. If Peter wanted to unzip his genes, he’d be DNA any day of the week. 

♩ _Oh, what you do Mickey, do Mickey! Don't break my heart, Mickey!_ ♩

Peter brought two fingers up to his brow and gave Wade a small salute before disappearing into the school, leaving everyone stunned. Before anyone could move, Wade bolted after him, making a split second decision. He may have a crush on Peter. A tiny one. But yes, he had a crush all the same.

_Hey Petey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind; Hey Petey, hey Petey!_

**Oh what you do Petey, do Petey! Don't break my heart, Petey!**

Shit.


	3. Where Do We Go Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's potentially triggering content this chapter regarding mental health/suicide. Since it's high school, it's not all fluff and fun so things will get worse before they get better. But! They do get better. Promise.

**T Minus 269 Days**

**Tuesday, Sept. 26**

**11:39 A.M.**

It had been a little over a week since Peter had first initiated his transformation into a more ‘him’ him, and he was finally beginning to settle into a comfortable routine. People stared at him a lot more now and he’d even been asked by a few people to hang out with them, but he was content with his crew. Michele, Liz, Wade, Ned, and Jimmy. The people who had liked him all the way through, not just because he now looked… hotter, maybe? He didn’t know what to label it. In his eyes, he was still the same old Peter.

“I don’t get it,” Wade whined across the library table, digging his hands into his hair. His lashes were lowered in annoyance, his tongue flickering over his lips as he tried to figure out the problem. Peter wanted to reach out and smooth the line between his brows with a thumb, something Aunt May sometimes did to him. Instead, he looked away and tried his best to stop noticing all of those things.

He’d known Wade for only a couple of weeks, and already he had trouble focusing on his work when Wade was watching over his shoulder. And his heart did a weird kind of skipping thing that took his breath for a second when Wade touched his hand, though that quickly went away when Wade moved his hand to draw a penis on their project with Peter’s pencil. It was ridiculous and he had no idea how it had ended up like this, not when his first impression of Wade had been so low, but he had it bad. The worst part was that Wade flirted with pretty much everything that moved, so he had no idea if Wade liked him back or if the flirting was all just a front.

“You forgot to square root c,” Peter pointed out, watching as Wade’s eyes lit up and he finished the equation with ease. He really was getting good at that stuff, eager to please when it came to Peter.

“Done! And that’s a wrap for this project. The only problem now is…”

“The biology test next week.”

“The biology test next week,” Wade agreed, slamming his math book shut. “Which, okay, we both know I’ve come a long way. But I’m only on grade ten biology and this test is one hundred percent not going to be grade ten. We don’t have the time to get me there.”

“We’ll just have to study outside of school,” Peter said in a flippant tone, despite the fact that his heart was trying to break through his rib cage. That first Monday after the texts, things had changed between him and Wade. Talking became easier, and now they were texting every day, Wade asking school questions that Peter sometimes _knew_ he knew, as if he just wanted to chat with Peter.

“How about my place at… oh, say seven?” Wade asked as if it were no big deal. He plastered on a huge grin at Peter’s hesitation. “What? You think I’m going to put the moves on you, do that Naked Twister we talked about? Don’t worry, I won’t. Not unless you beg me for it.”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, rising from his seat just as Jimmy came up from behind them. Wade turned and let out a low whistle, making Peter turn as well.

“Nice haircut, Little Italy,” Wade commented, and Peter was still just as surprised as the first day when Jimmy cracked a small smile. Despite Jimmy not appreciating others calling him Fatty G (he had a bigger bone structure but was thin and always looked sort of gaunt, so the name was the jocks’ form of irony), he seemed to like Wade’s nickname for him. And Wade in general.

“Thank you, Wade,” he said quietly, then turned that small smile on Peter. “Nice to see you guys again.”

They met up nearly every day in the library now, Jimmy content to sit at the end of the table and listen in on their conversations, interjecting maybe once every couple of days with a particularly good metaphor to help Wade learn something. Usually, he had his thick black locks pulled into a ponytail since they were longer than even Liz’s, but apparently he’d wanted a change too. He’d chopped the majority of it off, going for a James Dean sort of cut that suited him well.

“Nice to see you too, Jimmy. I’m liking the hair as well.”

Jimmy bobbed his head a little in acknowledgement of the compliment, then sat down and opened some sort of business book, content to sit there and read without saying goodbye. That was just how he rolled; he didn’t say much unless he thought it needed to be said. The group could respect that.

“Where do you live, anyway?” Peter asked as he and Wade left the library to make their way to his locker. Wade leaned against the locker next to his, hovering over him in that protective-boyfriend sort of way that had become an inside joke the second Wade had done it and Liz had pointed out how generic it was.

“Downtown, near the Starbucks a few streets from here. I’ll text you my address so you can come tonight.”

Peter slammed his locker shut, turning to arch a brow at Wade.

“You wanted an excuse to say that.”

“An excuse was nice, though I would’ve said it without any excuse at all,” Wade snickered. “I must admit, I’m slightly disappointed. It takes a lot more to make you blush than it did when we first met.”

“I guess the last couple of weeks have made me immune to your charms,” Peter said with a shrug, imagining a Japanese rock garden. It was Michele’s idea, supported by Liz; picture something absolutely calming and you won’t blush as much. It had actually worked pretty well so far.

“Immune? That’s possible?” Wade brought a hand to his heart in mock-offense, and then shifted his eyes to where Flash was walking down the hall, steering his friends away from the library when they suggested messing with Jimmy.

“Hey, Flash!” Wade called, turning everyone’s attention to him. “Do you think my charms are something anyone can be immune to? If I told you that you had more game than a PS4, would you just brush it off like it was nothing?”

Flash looked uneasy, as if Wade being so openly flirty with him was messing with his manhood.

“Fuck off, Wilson,” he called back half-heartedly, then turned to walk in the opposite direction. Wade shrugged.

“I think I got to him,” Wade side-mouthed to Peter, smirking. His smirk abruptly disappeared when he saw Peter’s expression, as much as Peter tried to hide it. It was clear Wade had just been messing with Flash, but it was little one-liners like those that made Peter’s pulse jump when Wade said them to him. Seeing Wade use them on other people made him feel like a colossal idiot for reading into them; it was Wade’s personality to drop pickup lines on anyone near him. Peter just happened to be near him a lot.

“What?” Wade asked as Peter turned away, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “What?!”

“It’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t make that ‘Wade-you-fucked-up-question-three-and-now- _everything_ -is-wrong’ expression if it was nothing. Is it the flirting? Is that it? Are you jealous?”

“No! Why would I be jealous?” Peter said quickly, suddenly feeling like he was being petty. It was him making a big deal out of nothing, and now Wade was going to find him annoying as hell.

_Great job, Parker. Really, A+ job making the guy you might like think you’re an asshole._

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop,” Wade offered seriously, his sly smile disappearing for once. “I’m not kidding. You’re my tutor and I’ll do whatever you say.”

Peter wanted to say something along the lines of ‘I want you to stop because of me being more than just a tutor to you’, but he was too chicken-shit so he kept his mouth shut. Wade grabbed his arm and spun him around, forcing him to tilt his head up to look the taller boy in the eye.

“Just tell me not to,” Wade said insistently, refusing to let it go. “Just say it.”

Peter opened his mouth. Closed it. Said: “I don’t want you getting distracted before the big test.”

Of course he’d taken the coward’s way out when it came to confessing his feelings; his entire life had been a string of rejections. He’d been in love with M.J. for years, but when he’d told her she’d gently let him down and said she only liked him as a friend. He’d gone on a couple of dates with Gwen, but it had proven painfully awkward and would’ve ruined their friendship had they kept it up. In ninth grade he’d developed a crush on another boy, but it was around that time the gay rumours had started and the guy he’d liked had ended up avoiding him because he felt ‘they didn’t have much in common what with Peter having a different sexual orientation.’ Next was Liz, and Liz… well, that hadn’t panned out for him either. In his experience, he made a better friend than a lover. Besides, Wade was a little above him in… everything. Except for maybe school.

“I won’t,” Wade muttered, releasing Peter’s arm. Wait. Was that… disappointment Peter saw in his face? Or was he overthinking it? The problem with having less than nil experience in the world of boyfriends and girlfriends was the fact that it was impossible to tell whether something was really happening or whether it was just wishful thinking.

“What is _up_ , dudes?” a familiar voice asked, making Peter and Wade turn at the exact same time like some ridiculous in sync comedy duo. Michele had magically appeared like some sort of inner-turmoil-detector, something she’d been doing more recently throughout the week. Giving Peter tips, growing even more suspicious of Wade, and sucker punching Generic Dumb Jock #1 when he’d tried to make a subtle homophobic joke were just some of the things she’d done in the past few days. Sometimes Peter wondered if she was a real person or if she was some sort of supernatural being sent down to offer sage (and sarcastic) advice.

“Peter, I just remembered that I forgot to talk to you about last night’s GoT episode.” There hadn’t been a Game of Thrones… oh. “Joffrey and Jon Snow have been growing closer, which is definitely protecting Khaleesi. It’s good, but the problem is that Missandei thinks Jon is an alright guy, and she’s worried he’s forgotten that Joffrey could be evil.”

Wade’s head whipped back and forth between them, confusion plain on his face. Peter ignored him, holding Michele’s eyes stoutly.

“Jon doesn’t think Joffrey is evil.”

“He’s clearly lying about _something_. And what do privileged, good kings need to hide, anyway? Even Khaleesi has noticed that there’s something different about him.”

That much was true. Despite Wade’s lack of maturity, there was a slight disconnect between him and the rest of the generation. His jokes and music taste were out-dated by a couple of years, and some of the references that went over his head were too obvious for anyone from any high school to miss. Granted, Wade had been homeschooled so he may not have heard of many things, but every question Peter asked him about his homeschooling, he seemed to evade. He turned questions into other questions and discreetly wiggled out of giving answers, which made no sense if he had nothing to hide.

“What do Missandei and Khaleesi think he’s hiding, then?” Peter asked, still refusing to look at Wade.

“Khaleesi seems to think it’s something that won’t hurt Jon, since she claims he wants to protect to Jon. But Missandei isn’t so sure. She thinks Jon should protect his heart, and that he should do more investigating before he makes any commitments.”

Peter swallowed; it was a good point. The only other guy he’d ever liked had ended up being a total jerk, so maybe his taste in men wasn’t nearly as good as his taste in women. He snuck a glance at Wade to find the blond studiously scrolling through his phone, entirely focused on whatever he was looking up.

“Jon is going to invade House Lannister tonight,” Peter heard himself say, then quickly amended his statement. “I mean, in canon, he said he was going to invade the house ‘tonight’.”

“Jon shouldn’t go by himself,” Michele said pointedly. Peter was touched by her concern and might’ve even offered to let her come with him. If he wasn’t Spider-Man and completely able to deal with any threats on his own. He cast another tiny glance at Wade, wondering if Wade would ever try to hurt him. His Spidey senses told him about immediate danger, but he liked to think his human instincts would warn him about danger in the future. Neither of them were set off when he looked at Wade; the only thing that was set off was his adrenal medulla, giving him a shot of epinephrine.

“Jon can handle himself. He’ll let Missandei know how the invasion goes in the next episode.”

Michele looked for a second as if she were about to argue, then decided against it, probably because she’d filled her quota of social interaction for the day. She shrugged as if to say ‘I tried,’ and spun around when a tinier, male version of herself jogged up and started speaking Spanish rapid-fire. Her brows creased and she shook her head, saying something back in Spanish before her younger brother dragged her away.

“What was _that_ all about?” Peter wondered aloud, half-hoping to drag Wade into a conversation and half honestly curious. Wade made a noise of pure distress instead, glaring at his phone as if it had mortally betrayed him.

“Jon Snow and Khaleesi?” he asked, and Peter froze for a second, wondering if the whole gig was up and Wade had deciphered their code.

“I can’t choose between them, I really can’t,” Wade went on, his voice nearly a wail. “Khaleesi looks like an absolute goddess, but Jon has puppy eyes and big, sad eyes with a sweet face are my ultimate weaknesses.

Peter relaxed marginally, standing on his toes to peer over Wade’s shoulder at the pictures he’d pulled up of both characters.

“Personally, I’d pick Khaleesi,” Peter said, all too conscious of the fact that he’d only have to lower himself a centimetre and his chin would be resting on Wade’s shoulder. Wade turned his head so that a single inch separated their faces, and Peter’s soul threatened to go to the afterlife without him.

“I think I’d pick Jon,” Wade stated, his voice abruptly changing to become lower, throatier. “Puppy eyes really do destroy me. And people with innocent eyes on the streets usually have the best bedroom eyes in the sheets.” Wade’s own baby blues tilted, infuriatingly, down to Peter’s mouth.

Peter was quick to lean away, but this time he couldn’t stop himself from blushing.

 

**T Minus 269 Days**

**Tuesday, Sept. 26**

**5:03 P.M.**

Wade had never given much thought to having a dirty apartment. As someone who usually travelled a lot, popping in and out of different cheap motels and only coming home a couple of times a month, messes in his residence never seemed to be a problem. Now, with his arms crossed over his chest, he got a sort of sinking feeling in his chest when he realized there was barely even a spot to sit.

Pizza boxes were strewn over every surface, those little wrappers burritos and hot dogs came in were stuck to his living room’s rug by mustard or white cheese sauce, paper plates were somehow attached to the wall, and there were unidentifiable liquids spilled all over the couch. If Vanessa were still living with him, this would unacceptable and it never would’ve gotten to this state. If Charles had let Blind Al live with him like he’d _suggested_

(“She’ll be a great asset to my new and improved lifestyle.”

“You do realize I know you only want her to help you with chores and to make your meals?”

“What? Nah. There’s no way I’d take advantage of a blind old lady like that.”

“Then I suppose you can do without her, now can’t you?”),

it also wouldn’t be so messy.

_We can probably get it done if we start immediately._

**Yeah, but it’ll be boring as fuck and we won’t have time to cook hors d’oeuvres.**

_Peter doesn’t expect us to be a fancy asshole._

**Which is why we should try to surpass his expectations.**

“I would love to take him to bed, but for once I’m actually more interested in getting to know him,” Wade said aloud. “So we’ll just pile all this shit in the bedroom, since we won’t be needing it.”

The voices were satisfied with that, and Wade got to work. He had two couches, so he piled a shitload of stuff on the stained one and dragged it into the bedroom. After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled up the carpet and tossed that in there too. Next, he spent a half hour scraping plates off of walls and scrubbing everything down with some Mr. Clean that smelled like oranges mixed with cancer. In between plates, he got a crockpot going with some chopped up wieners wrapped in bacon and sizzling in maple syrup. Good ol’ Pinterest was a man’s best friend.

Cheese and crackers were set out next, beside a plate of stuff he’d taken out of the fridge. Apples, noodles, a hunk of beef, and some pineapples stolen off a pizza (pineapples on pizza tasted like ass, but if you wanted free pineapple, Hawaiian was the way to go). It looked kind of weird all thrown together on the same plate, but Wade was proud nonetheless. The last touch was a punch, so he threw some orange juice, ginger ale, cranberry juice, and his last bottle of vodka in a popcorn bowl. 

_The last person we went this crazy for was Vanessa._

Wade stopped in the midst of adjusting a lone picture on the wall; a wonky mosaic that could either be a lamp or something more erotic. A joke present his best girl had gotten him for a birthday.

“It’s different,” he muttered under his breath, trying to hold onto the upbeat, not-giving-a-shit feeling that had stuck with him through the afternoon. Sadly, being a teen made his mood unstable to say the least, and it went from ninety to zero in the space of a couple of minutes.

He always tried not to think about her, about the way she would laugh with her whole body and scarf food down as if she didn’t care a lick about her figure. How she would wrap a leg around his waist and drag him down into bed when he got up to go to work, or loudly critique every cheesy movie he took her to, but never complain about going to them. Even after the cancer, and the superhero thing, and the face thing, she’d still found a way to love him. Him, and all of his jagged, weird little pieces.

Now that he’d let the thoughts in, it was like they couldn’t stop. He sank down on the couch, burying his head in his hands. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t some sappy idiot who couldn’t get over his lost love. Why the fuck did he keep thinking about it?

_Well, going along with Freud’s theories, you’ve been supressing dealing with what happened._

“Maybe, but there should be no reason for it all to come back now.”

**We don’t need to be psychoanalysts to know it’s Peter. If we want to move on, we have to deal with ‘feelings’ first, apparently. Wow. Didn’t know we had those.**

“Okay, I freely admit that I have a crush on said tutor. But a crush is on a completely different level than the big L.”

_Well… is it possible that deep down we think we could maybe possibly fall for him?_

Wade paused in speaking to himself, jiggling his knee up and down as he thought it over. He’d known Peter for a little more than two weeks, so there was no way he should be considering this now. Just what was it about Peter Parker that he found so alluring, anyway? He’d known other people with the same sort of kind awkwardness the kid had. Maybe not everyone like that had an undercurrent of snark, but still. Why did it feel like he’d known Peter for longer?

“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “We’re no good for him. What we’re going to do is have some fun with him, find out where he gets those bruises, and help him out. Once he sees the real us, he won’t like us anyway. Vanessa was the only one who could, because she was pretty fucked up too. Peter isn’t fucked up enough.”

**So we should stop acting so serious towards him then.**

_That means being more shallow._

**Flirting with everyone even though we said we wouldn’t.**

_Not texting him pickup lines._

**Not putting on a big production when he comes over to study.**

Man, Wade hated this mood swing shit. He should’ve figured this all out before, but his mood had been too optimistic. He was in the midst of considering whether or not to text Charles to beg him to talk to Strange again when the doorbell rang.

Despite all of his agreements with himself not to be serious, he ran a hand through his hair and checked his teeth for food before bolting to the door and wrenching it open, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Hey.”

Peter looked… well, like he’d actually made an effort. The hair that usually looked like he’d gotten out of bed and scrubbed a few fingers through it was gelled back, and the outfit he was wearing was new. A blue blazer (Wade had joked his favourite colours on Peter were blue and red), and dark jeans Wade had no idea how anyone could’ve managed to wriggle into. Wade also caught a whiff of pine, as if Peter had slapped on some cologne or something before coming. It made the whole thing feel decidedly more formal than it had five minutes prior.

“Hi, Wade,” Peter said shyly, tugging self-consciously at his shirt. “Mind if I come in?”

Suddenly it hurt to breathe. Peter already cared much more than Wade wanted him to, and things felt a hundred times more complicated. For fuck’s sake, it was just a study group between two dudes who wanted a good grade on a biology test. He craved his adult-brain back, the brain that wasn’t so full of hormones that it felt like this was one of the most important nights of his life.

“That’s your question for tonight?” Wade asked as he stepped aside, gesturing for Peter to come in. “Here I was thinking it would be super-personal and nosy. Too bad for you; it’s my turn. And my question is—”

“You already asked it,” Peter said with a sly smile, and the tension was broken. Wade kicked the door shut and made an expansive gesture.

“Make yourself at home. I was thinking we could do it on the living room table. You, the homework… either one works for me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter answered distantly, distracted by the new area. He wandered around, curious about everything, while Wade explained the layout of the apartment. After the grand (small) tour, they rounded back to the living room and sat around the small coffee table Wade had laid the food on. Peter stared for a full minute while Wade tried not to wring his hands like a desperate housewife.

“Is that… roast beef…?” Peter asked in bewilderment, staring at the plate of random assorted foods.

“Indeed it is,” Wade chirped happily, offering Peter the only clean paper plate in the house. “Feel free to dig in. Whatever you want.”

Peter waited as if checking to see whether or not Wade was serious, then shrugged and grabbed the beef.

“Thanks. You have a really nice place.”

Wade tried not to let it show how pleased he was with the compliment.

They spent the next couple of hours actually going over biology, snacking on the foods Wade had put out and only joking around about fifteen percent of the time. Things were beginning to make sense in a way they never had before, and Wade almost suggested that Peter become a teacher, he was that good. The only thing that stopped him was the image of an illicit student-teacher relationship that turned him on more than he’d ever care to admit. Which was _a lot_ , because he usually admitted when things turned him on.

“I think that’s a wrap for tonight,” Peter yawned as he closed the textbook. Neither of them had touched the punch since Wade had told Peter it was alcoholic and they’d decided not to drink before they studied, but now Wade grabbed a glass and dipped it in the bowl.

“At least have a drink with me before you go,” Wade said, holding the glass out to Peter. For a second, he thought Peter would just leave without touching it, but after a moment’s hesitation Peter grabbed it.

“We haven’t actually asked worthwhile questions tonight,” Peter observed as he took a sip of the punch. Wade tried it too and was surprised at how well the other ingredients covered the taste of the vodka. It was one of those things where, if you weren’t careful, you’d accidentally end up drinking too much without realizing it.

“Then let’s go right now. You start.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could ask more than one question tonight,” Peter admitted, hiding his expression behind another tilt of the glass. “It’s just us and we don’t really have a time limit.”

That was fine with Wade; it would give him more questions to dig into who was hurting Peter.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Why do you live by yourself?”

Wade downed the entire glass of punch and scooped up another. There was some sort of crazy determination in Peter’s eyes that was literally driving him to drinking.

“The ’rents are out of the picture and I like being independent.”

“What do you mean—”

“My turn. What’s a nice, responsible kid like you doing showing up for school late sometimes?”

This time Peter took a long drink, averting his eyes.

“I sleep in.”

“Bullshit. We agreed to be truthful in this game, remember? Is it fights? Those are the rumours going around.”

Peter cupped both hands around his glass as if holding warmth in it, still not looking up. He clearly didn’t want to answer, but Wade had gotten nowhere in the past couple of weeks and he was determined to get somewhere tonight. It wasn’t to get Liz off of his back anymore; he was genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” Peter finally said, nodding. “I get into fights.”

“With who?”

“My turn. Where’s your family?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Who do you fight with?”

“Bad people. Like… drug dealers and stuff.”

That threw Wade for a loop. Peter didn’t strike him as the type to get involved with drugs, and as far as he could tell the kid wasn’t actually on anything. Was it his aunt?

“What kind of homeschool did you go to?”

Ouch. That was a hard one to answer. Did military and/or mercenary training count as homeschooling?

“It was a military training program. Why are you involved with drugs?”

“I’m not personally involved with them. If you only have military qualifications, how did you manage to get a transcript that allowed you into grade twelve?”

Peter was getting too close to the truth for Wade to tell him anymore, and clearly he was also getting close to whatever it was Peter was caught up in. The question was: did he tell Peter about the whole Charles Xavier/Stephen Strange/Deadpool thing so he could find out Peter’s secret? Or did he hide it?

Fleeting images of what had happened to Vanessa after she’d gotten involved in his (anti)hero life made him wince. Maybe other mutants and mutates could handle that life, but there was no way he could drag Peter into it. It would be worse than whatever kind of trouble Peter was in now, especially with some apocalyptic doomsday asshole coming to a theatre near you™ soon.

“I can’t answer that, and I have a feeling you won’t answer what I ask next,” Wade muttered as he drained his third glass of punch. Peter was already on his second; neither of them having really noticed how much they’d been drinking. Oh well, the vodka was only… what percentage had it been again? Wade couldn’t actually remember.

“So I guess we’ve reached an impasse,” Peter sighed, tilting his head back to rest it against the couch. “And this whole thing is making me feel dizzy. Let’s talk about something lighter.”

“Feathers?” Wade suggested. Peter, who had closed his eyes, cracked them open and turned to give Wade a look. Then he started to laugh, the sort of giggle that bubbled up your throat and burst out sounding like a hyena. Wade grinned; his sour mood was beginning to fade away, replaced by a better sort of buzz.

“I have Guitar Hero two. We could annoy the neighbours with that.”

“Guitar Hero? Jesus, I haven’t heard anyone talk about that in years. Is that still a thing?”

“Of course,” Wade said, affronted. “Let the master show you how it’s done.”

It took Wade nearly ten minutes to get it all set up since, despite what he’d told Peter, he actually didn’t play it on a regular basis. During that time, they both downed more punch, and Wade realized when he turned the game on and the guitar line looked all wavy that maybe he was a bit tipsy.

“Peter,” he whispered, absolutely serious. “I think I’m drunk.”

Peter laughed. It wasn’t the kind of laugh Wade’s statement warranted either; it was a slightly hysterical laugh that went on for a bit too long. Wade peeked at his face and realized with a jolt that the flushed, rosy cheeks and slight sway Peter had weren’t because he was sober.

“You’re drunk too,” Wade pointed out. Peter’s maniacal laughter started up again and he pressed a hand to his stomach as if it were so funny he couldn’t take it.

“I think so,” Peter giggled, swiping at tears. “I don’t even know why I’m laughing because I don’t find anything particularly funny. But also, I find everything funny.”

Wade nodded as if that made perfect sense (and it did, somehow), then handed Peter the guitar. If Peter was super drunk, that meant Wade could win this competition hands down. And hey. Hey! If he won! He! Would! Kiss! Peter! If not, he wouldn’t.

**Weren’t we talking about not doing that earlier?**

_Peter deserves kisses though!_

**You’re absolutely right. Genius. Do it.**

Wade hefted the microphone as they examined the songs. Peter squinted at the screen, seemingly unable to read, so Wade took it upon himself to choose a song. One that was easier on the vocals but harder on the guitar line.

“Got it,” he announced with a feral grin. Guns N’ Roses, 1987. Sweet Child O’ Mine. He’d like to see Peter _try_ to beat him on expert.

“Man, I haven’t played this in soooo long,” Peter complained, though his words were broken up in bouts of giggles. He stood up, wobbling a little, then got so close to the television Wade had to drag him back to see. He should have Peter beat before he even started in on vocals, because expert level would destroy anyone who hadn’t played in a while.

The opening riff started almost immediately, and Peter leaned in close to the TV, fingers clicking away at buttons. He was… surprisingly good. His fingers flew over the buttons as he swayed back and forth, and in the short time Wade observed him, he didn’t make a single mistake. Not good. Wade would have to step up his game.

The vocals came in and Wade started his own strategy, which helped him get the right notes while messing with Peter at the same time.

“You’re not even singing!” Peter yelled over his voice. “You’re making whale noises!”

Wade winked and Peter dissolved into cackles, then they concentrated on their parts. Wade needed a hundred percent; there was no doubt about it. Peter was really fucking good, and as Peter played his heart out Wade… well, not really sang, but ‘sang’ his soul out.

At two thirds into the song, Wade drew the mic away and turned to watch Peter enter one of the most intense guitar riffs he’d ever seen in his life. Peter bobbed his head along to the guitar as the song sped up, then slowly sank to his knees, fingers flying so fast Wade couldn’t even keep track of them. When he hit his knees, he started leaning back, and by the time he was almost completely flat on the floor Wade was sweating. No one in the world had reflexes that good. No one in the world was that flexible.

"Stop," Wade croaked, unable to bear the thought that he might lose. Peter only seemed to go faster, if that was possible. "That's no fair."

"All's fair in love and war," Peter said with a wink. "And also when it comes to Guns N' Roses."

Wade wanted to make a clever retort or slaying remark back, but his part in the song came on and he was forced to return to the mic, casting a glance sideways at Peter. This time, instead of making ungodly noises so his voice rose and fell at all the right parts, he actually started singing.

"Where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go?"

Peter sprang back to his feet in a move that was almost like Regan from the exorcist, not even bothering to get to his knees before ending up on his feet. He stumbled a bit too, though that made it no less impressive. As they neared the end of the song, they caught each other's eyes. Wade moved forward at the same time Peter did, and they began circling each other with slightly goofy, slightly competitive smiles.

"Where do we go now? No, no, no, no, no, no. Sweet child..."

Peter leaned close to the mic, eyes flicking between the screen and Wade's face. When the last line hit and all he had to do were sustained notes, he put his lips practically on the mic and they both sang the final lines together, neither of them sounding particularly good.

"Sweet chiiiiIIIIIIIIld of miiiiiinee!"

Peter gave the guitar one last fake strum, and then the notes died away. Wow. It was over. Somehow, it had been almost as intense as sex with that climax. Except the tension between them hadn't gone away, and now Peter was still standing only inches away with no mic between them anymore.

"I won," Peter breathed without bothering to look at the screen, and Wade nodded mutely. He felt his eyes dip unwillingly to Peter's lips and he expected a reprimand, but Peter said nothing.

**We said only if _we_ won.**

_We never claimed to be truthers._

The mic slipped from Wade's fingers to land on the floor with a soft thump, rolling who knew or cared where. Wade lowered his head slow enough to give Peter time to lean away, expecting him to take a few steps back and be the logical one who stated that this wasn't a good idea. Instead, Peter's hands dropped away from the guitar and he stretched up on his toes so that Wade wasn't doing all the work. Wade swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling a lot more sober than he'd thought he was.

"Are you su—"

A banging on the door startled them both, making Peter jump back quicker than any superhero Wade had ever seen. He let out a shriek and tumbled over the couch.

"Oh shit. Petey, are you—"

"Alive," a muffled groan came from behind the couch, and then a giggle as if it were the funniest word he'd ever heard. Wade ran a frustrated hand through his hair before stalking over to the door and wrenching it open, making his annoyance plain.

"What?"

"Keep your goddamn voices down, my kids are trying to sleep," the fat lady who lived next door snapped. Her words weren't the only thing she shot at him either; spittle and a stream of smoke all blew into his face so he was simultaneously coughing and trying to determine if he'd gotten any of her saliva in his mouth.

"You shouldn't smoke if you're living with kids," Wade coughed, waving a hand to clear the air. Which she, of course, smoked up again when she took a puff and purposely blew in his direction.

"Just shaddup. Don't need to hear you and that little twink you ordered fucking around."

"What did you just call him?"

He couldn't decide whether to be offended or amused.

"You heard me, asshole. I know your type, the two of you making some sort of freaky underage porn to pay for your college tuition or whatever, and let me tell you!"

Wade didn't get a chance to hear what she wanted to tell him, because Peter stumbled out from the behind the couch and howled with laughter, banging on the table so hard the legs began to wobble.

"Making porn tapes to pay for college tuition?" he mimicked, tears streaming down his face. " _Kids these days. I hate when they make some freaky porn using Guitar Hero and terrible singing. Back in my day, we had to use real guitars and we took singing lessons. For shame, kids of 2k17! For shame!"_

He did a scarily accurate impression of an old lady for a seventeen-year-old kid. He also sounded so batshit crazy that Wade's neighbour shot Wade a dirty look, then hurried away as if she didn't want to catch whatever he had.

"Maaaan, she ruined our moment," Peter complained, though his smile never left. "I gotta like, get home to Aunt May anyway, though. Walk me there."

"Okay," Wade agreed easily, slipping one arm around Peter's waist. Wade wasn't the kind of drunk who stumbled around, so it was his responsibility to walk the stumbling drunk home, right? It was necessary, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Wade wanted to spend maybe a little more time with Peter. "You lead though, because I've got no idea where you live. Just remember that once I know, you can't get rid of me. That song 'Somebody's Watching Me' will become your life's theme song."

Peter snorted, leaning into Wade's shoulder so that all Wade could smell was pine and the slight tang of sweat. Would it be creepy if he leaned down and sniffed Peter's hair?

_Undoubtedly._

**If the alcohol wasn't screwing with our system, we'd definitely have a VARB—Very Apparent Reason Boner—right now. Which means that if you start smelling him, even the alcohol won't stop it.**

_And walking however many streets like that won't be comfortable for anyone._

Wade chose the higher ground for once, though it didn't stop him from enjoying Peter leaning against him and mumbling random things under his breath. Getting down the stairs was a chore, but once they were on the street the going was relatively easy. Easy enough that Wade probably didn't need to support Peter, and they both knew it. Peter clung to him anyway.

"Hey, Wade?" Peter asked when they'd walked a couple of blocks in a silence only broken occasional giggles from Peter.

"Yes, my dear baby pumpkin pie?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Fuck. Even drunk, it felt like he'd just swallowed a bunch of metal shavings that had sliced his throat all to hell. He cleared it a couple of times, picking a streetlight in the distance and focusing on it.

"Once. Her name was Vanessa and she was the woman of my dreams."

"What happened?"

Wade stopped, forcing Peter to stop beside him.

"She died."

"Oh."

They continued another couple of blocks, this time in full silence. Wade kind of wanted to text Charles to ask him what Peter was thinking; a single glance told him Peter was deep in thought, but he couldn't tell whether it was normal serious thinking or that drunk philosophical thinking.

"How?" Peter asked suddenly, looking up at Wade with much clearer eyes than he'd expected from a drunkard.

"She was killed by someone coming after me. It was my fault."

"Because of whatever military stuff you were doing?"

"...Yeah. More or less."

The happy buzz was rapidly wearing off, much to Wade's disappointment. He needed a better subject, something to take his mind off of all the shit that threatened to overwhelm it.

"How about you, Petey? Ever been in love?"

"Not really," Peter sighed, casting his gaze to the cracks in the sidewalk and making a point to step over them. "I loved my friends, though. Not romantically. Or, I guess, I had a big enough crush on M.J. for a while that I thought I loved her. But the feelings were deeper as friends. We would've done anything for each other."

"And then you all went your separate ways after middle school," Wade said, nodding. It happened.

"No," Peter mumbled. "No, that's not what happened. We went to different schools but we were still close. We skyped, had group calls every night, and hung out on the weekend."

"So then..."

"I put them all in danger, and I killed Harry's dad."

Peter ceased walking, turning to one of the only brightly lit houses on the block. Wade could see the name 'Parker' etched in faded letters on the mailbox, but he wasn't ready to let Peter go just yet.

"You killed him." It was more a flat, disbelieving statement than anything. "I don't believe you."

"Not directly, though I may as well have. He killed himself, and I didn't stop it even though I probably could have. He impaled himself, and I should've stopped it. I was just so tired from everything that I couldn't move. It was like the guy who hurt Uncle Ben all over again."

Only about fifty percent of that made sense. Nonetheless, from what Wade was understanding, Peter hadn't lived nearly as charmed a life as he'd thought.

"Jesus. I don't know the details, but I don't think any of it was your fault. We can't control what other people do."

"That's hypocritical coming from a guy who claimed his girlfriend's death was his fault."

Wade... couldn't really argue. Instead, he took a good long look at Peter and realized there was something far deeper and harder in Peter's eyes than he'd first seen. And it wasn't a dick.

"What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of love, kiddo?"

"Pain," Peter answered instantly. As if realizing what his answer meant, he winced and stepped out of the circle of Wade's arm, leaving a Peter-sized hole of coldness. Wade jammed his hands in his pockets, glancing at the bright, cheery house Peter had grown up in. As innocent as it looked on the outside, what kinds of less-innocent things were in there? Drug dealers, death by impalement, danger, and inexplicable cynicism when it came to love painted a very different picture than Wade's first impression. What was Peter hiding? And dammit, why the fuck did Wade care so much?

"If we're both that jaded, I don't think there's much hope for us," Wade joked, except he wasn't really joking at all.

"Or our only hope is each other," Peter said with a shrug. "Because we both know that trying to tell someone it isn't their fault is bullshit. They have to figure it out on their own."

"I think I'm done with all that love stuff. I already had my shot."

"Okay," Peter said brightly, bobbing his head. "Okay."

The sudden cheeriness was clearly a front; Wade could see that even as drunk as he was. Half of him wanted to say it was a joke. The other, more practical half told him it didn't matter what he wanted, since he was already in too deep and he couldn't afford to drag Peter down any further.

"Listen... I also don't think this whole tutor thing is going to work out, either. No offense, but I'm on the right track and I don't need much help anymore. Thanks for everything."

_This is like two truths and a lie except everything is a lie._

**We can't seriously get rid of him now. We haven't found the truth yet, and he needs help.**

_We have enough of it, though. We can keep our distance emotionally while following him around as Deadpool. When we find those motherfuckers who've been beating on him, we'll give them a treat they'll never forget. Except they'll be dead so that means they probably actually will forget._

**And our grades?**

_Not worth making his life harder for. Doesn't matter that he's seen some bad juju, he ain't seen nothing like what we've done as Deadpool. And let's be realistic, would someone as moral as him really like a mercenary?_

"You're kidding, right?" Peter asked, shaking his head incredulously.

"No. Don't hang out with me at lunch anymore, either." Harsh, but necessary. If he could get the hard part over with now, more feelings wouldn't get involved and it wouldn't be as difficult as it would be in the future. He expected Peter to walk away stone-faced, or hit him, or maybe shed a tear. Hopefully not the latter. Instead, Peter reached up, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pulled him down ( _with great strength, I might add_ ) for a kiss.

It took Wade a second to get it.

And then another to process it.

Another to actually react.

By the time he'd parted his lips to kiss back, Peter had already released him. His head felt sort of woozy and he blinked at least seventy three times as he tried to form a coherent thought. It had been so quick that he couldn't really label it as good or bad, and it hadn't gone beyond lips so he couldn't taste Peter in his mouth. Still... still. Peter Parker, who was most definitely the shyer of them, had initiated the kiss _on his own._ Even though Peter was clearly a little under the influence, Wade couldn't fathom it.

"That was a goodbye," Peter said stoutly, catching and holding Wade's dazed look. "Goodbye to whatever feelings might've developed between us. We're clearly not in the right place to be anything more friends, but that's okay with me. I'm used to being friends with people, and all this crush stuff usually fades. What I will do is stop thinking it can ever happen between us. What I _won't_ do is let my feelings get in the way of this... whatever it is. I like our sessions. I like your jokes, and how fast you pick things up, and how you make me feel like I'm being useful. I like that we've gotten Jimmy out of his shell, and how I can finally have a conversation with Liz, and how we all fit together as a weird, awkward group. 'Us' isn't going to ruin that. Don't leave just because you're scared of that, Wade. Please. We need you and I think you need us too. Keep coming to the sessions. I'll keep it friendly and that's it."

Wade didn't want it to stay friendly. He also didn't want it to go any further.

"Fine."

They couldn't have it both ways, so this was the best compromise there was. This way he could watch out for Peter while maintaining enough distance that neither of them would get hurt.

"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

Without waiting for an answer, Peter crossed the lawn and disappeared into his happy-seeming house. Wade stayed outside for a moment longer, looking up at it, then turned and walked away. High school was quickly becoming less and less fun.

 

**T Minus 268 Days**

**Wednesday, Sept. 27**

**10:02 A.M.**

"Yo, Parker! Wait up!"

Peter hunched his shoulders and tried to pretend he hadn't heard her. He'd been dreading this conversation since he'd woken up with a pounding headache and the vague feeling that he'd done something he regretted. He'd had to lay in bed for a bit to remember what it was, and when he finally puzzled it out through the mess of memories that were the night before, he'd almost told Aunt May he was too sick to go into school.

"It's obvious you can hear me," Michele sighed. "So since I'm just going to keep following you until you stop and acknowledge that I'm here, you may as well save us both the energy and stop."

Peter stopped, wincing a little when someone near the end of the hall shut the locker and it reverberated all around inside his head. Having a mild hangover was bad enough as a normal student, so as someone with super hearing? It was the worst. He gingerly turned himself to face Michele, who noticed his expression and dropped her voice to a volume that was less painful.

"Rough night?"

"The worst," Peter groaned, thinking of how stupid he'd sounded going on a rant to Wade about staying friends. Not to mention the confessions about Harry, the other angsty, idiotic things he'd said, and the kiss. Oh God, the kiss. There were a lot of nights he wanted to take back, letting Norman Osborn and Uncle Ben die at the top of his list, but last night had become a quick third. He knew he shouldn't have had any drinks, not after the first time he'd been drunk, when he'd loudly declared to everyone that he was bisexual after watching Magic Mike with M.J. and Gwen. Luckily, it had only been his group there and they hadn't cared. Still didn't make it any less embarrassing, though.

"What did he do? I'll fuck him up if he hurt you."

" _He_ didn't do anything," Peter said, leaning against a locker and closing his eyes against the light. "He was actually really nice. I messed it all up by getting drunk and forcing him to talk about his long lost love, who apparently died and whose death he blames himself for."

"Ouch."

"Oh, that's not the worst part. I also kissed him then told him we should still be friends after he tried to push me away because he didn't want us to get together."

"Double ouch," a louder voice said, and Peter cracked one eye to see Ned approach, looking sympathetic. "Brought you a water since you looked kind of bad in bio. I figured something with alcohol happened since Wade didn't look much better and you guys didn't talk at all."

"Thanks." Peter accepted the bottle and downed half of it before giving his friends a forlorn glance. "So yeah, I screwed the whole thing over. Sorry, guys."

"No problem, Pete. I wasn't really interested in getting dirt anyway," Ned offered with a shrug.

"If _that's_ what he was hiding, I'm inclined to give up on this whole thing, too." Michele wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to a less busy part of the hall; the bench that had become their usual hangout spot. "If you think he's a good guy after last night, that's good enough for me. The only problem now is that you're clearly suffering from a broken heart."

"I've only known him for a couple of weeks."

"Doesn't matter. It's going to be real shitty for the next few weeks if you guys are both trying to be friends while also trying to get over your feelings. My recommendation? Let us come study with you. Me, Ned, Liz, and Jimmy. It'll be less awkward if we're all there, and you can kind of ease into it."

"Yeah, and if you need anything, let us know," Ned put in. "Personally, I think you two could be good for each other as more than friends, but it's up to you. See how this goes, then take it from there."

"What happened?" a quiet voice asked curiously, and Michele moved over so Jimmy could take a seat. Peter let out a tiny sigh then started from the beginning, explaining the entire night and only leaving out some of the really personal bits on Wade's part. Revealing how broken up Wade had seemed when talking about the girl he'd loved kind of felt like a breach of privacy.

"So you both like each other and want to try dating out but can't for some reasons you're not entirely sure of?" Jimmy looked confused, as if the concept made no sense to him. "Why don't you just try it out?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, if you say so."

Jimmy clearly didn't agree, but it was too late to matter. He and Wade were just going to be friends, and that was fine. That was one hundred percent, completely fine.

He could handle it.

 

**T Minus 242 Days**

**Monday, Oct. 23**

**11:03 A.M.**

"Hey Wade, how'd you do on the test?" Liz called as she caught up to him, eyeing the paper in his hands. It had taken the teacher three weeks to mark the biology tests. _Three weeks_! And he still couldn't look at it. He wasn't prepared for the stress that came with checking your grades, not when it was possible he could've failed. The test had been tricky and it had so many goddamn multiple choice that were so goddamn close to each other that he had no idea how he might've done. Could be a twenty. Could be a ninety. Probably not a ninety, though, since the long answer had been fucked up too.

"Didn't check yet. I was going to ask Petey to read it out to me."

"Coward," Liz taunted, snatching the paper from his hands and giving it a once-over. He couldn't tell what the results were from her expression, and somehow it made him even more stressed when she silently handed it back to him. "I'll let Peter deliver the news. We all on for lunch today since Pete's giving you a day off?"

Right, the first day off he'd gotten since they'd started studying together. At the beginning of the semester he might've called it a relief, but now he found it didn't matter either way. He liked their study sessions, even though he was crammed between Ned doing rapid combos on some fighting game and Liz texting Flash every five minutes to ask how his football practises were going. Even though Peter had made him quit all extracurricular activities until he could prove his grades wouldn't suffer because of them. Even if the feelings he'd promised Peter and himself would go away had only grown worse over the month.

"Absolutely. I hope Little Italy shows up this time."

Their group had quickly fallen into a routine, everyone scarfing cheap cafeteria food down before heading to the library. Liz came every second day since she hung out with Flash and the cheerleaders sometimes, but Michele, Ned, and Jimmy always showed up. Except for last week. Jimmy had only come once, looking haggard, and the rest of the week he hadn't even made an appearance in school at all. Everyone had noticed him rapidly growing even quieter than usual (a crazy feat for someone who was basically a mute ninety percent of time), but he refused to say why.

"Hey guys," Ned greeted as they walked past his locker, and the three of them made their way to the caf to find Peter and Michele waiting. No Little Italy, though.

" _Again_?" Wade asked, causing everyone to glance in the direction of his seat. "Anybody heard from him?"

Much as he hated to admit it, Wade was worried as hell. He genuinely liked the kids, thought of them as friends, and there was something disturbingly familiar about Jimmy's behaviour that Wade knew from his own time in high school. The withdrawal, the way his features which usually showed _some_ expression were now flat, the way he would stare into space and not really listen in... They needed a friend intervention or something.

"I heard from him last night," Peter muttered with a wince, one hand fluttering up to his ribs and then dropping away as if he didn't want anyone to see. Yet another mystery. Wade had tried to follow Peter but the kid had a knack for disappearing, and though Wade had attempted to crack down on a few drug dealers, he didn't have enough info to find the big wigs. Only Spidey did and Spidey refused to tell him. With possibly valid reasons.

Spidey had discovered Wade's lack of healing after they'd gotten in a fight and some asshole had pulled a knife. It was only a cut across his palm, but Spidey was way too perceptive and had forced Wade to spill his guts about losing his healing factor. He hadn't told Spidey why or how, since he didn't want Spidey calling up his friend Strange and saying Wade was spreading rumours, but Spidey had went all 'you can't fight these people with me if you don't have healing factor and/or a suit that actually protects you.' Not that Wade listened, but now Spidey tried to stop him from fighting and it was terrible.

"What'd he say?" Michele asked through a mouthful of chile rellano. Apparently her younger brother was a great cook and made stuff for the both of them, but Wade had no idea if he was _actually_ a good cook because he had yet to steal food from Michele. Liz was fine (unless she'd done a particularly gruelling cheerleader workout), Peter didn't care, Ned offered his food, and Jimmy... well, no one stole from him because it was Jimmy. But Michele... Wade had a feeling the girl could flip him on his ass without looking up from whatever book she was reading that day.

"He texted me and asked me to call. I was preoccupied so I couldn't and he hasn't picked up today, but apparently he dropped by the house last night and spoke to Aunt May." Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold chain with a cross dangling on it. "He's going on a trip or something so he wants me to hang onto this."

"A trip..." Wade murmured under his breath, bio test forgotten. "We should drop by his place tomorrow or the day after to check on him."

"Sounds good to me. How about the day after tomorrow after school? You guys up for it?"

Peter was always doing that now, making sure he and Wade were never alone. Hey, if that worked for him (which it seemed to, since Peter rarely looked at him with heart eyes anymore and acted only friendly), Wade would accept it.

Everyone assented and they continued their lunches chatting about lighter things. But Wade noticed that everyone kept surreptitiously glancing at Jimmy's empty seat.

Two days. If Jimmy could hold on for two days, they'd get to the bottom of it.

 

**T Minus 241 Days**

**Tuesday, Oct. 24**

**8:34 A.M.**

Peter sat beside Wade, textbook up to hide him from the teacher as he idly doodled a sketch of Spider-Man. He kept one arm up to hide his sketch because Wade had absolutely freaked out last time he'd drawn Spider-Man.

("Oh my God, it's Spidey!"

"Yes, Wade, I drew Spider-Man. He's kind of cool. Problem?"

"I love him. He's my hero. _My_ hero. Someday, we're going to married."

The joke had hurt even though Peter knew Wade had no idea that he was Spider-Man.)

He had tried to call Jimmy at least six times in the past twenty-four hours, all to no avail. It freaked him out, and he couldn't help but think that something was very, very wrong. A peek at Wade told him the other thought so too; Wade was staring sightlessly at the board, gnawing on his bottom lip. The fact that he was genuinely worried as well made Peter's heart do a strange sort of thump, and he quickly looked away. This 'not-having-a-crush' thing was a whole lot harder than he remembered.

"Hey, what'd you get on your bio test, Wade?" Ned asked from behind them, poking Wade in the back with a pencil. Wade startled out of his thoughts, then looked confused for a second. His face cleared as he realized what Ned was talking about, and he let out an inhuman noise.

"I forgot," he whispered in a strangled voice, then bent down and started rummaging through the pile of books at his feet. Peter waited, amused, and it was only because he was facing Wade's seat closer to the door that he saw a flash of black go by. He narrowed his eyes, rising a little to get a better glimpse, but it was already gone.

"Petey, Petey, you have to tell me what I got," Wade murmured, shoving the paper into his hands. Peter sat back down, but something felt off. It wasn't his Spidey senses. It was his... other senses. Human intuition, maybe.

"Sir, can I go the bathroom?" Peter asked, ignoring Wade's death sounds beside him.

"You can wait until the lesson is over," the teacher chastised, then went on teaching while Peter drummed his foot up and down, growing more nervous by the minute.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Wade's face looked as if it couldn't decide whether to be concerned or offended. "You got the shits or something?"

Peter didn't answer; he just kept bouncing his leg as he waited. It felt like hours, and the teacher showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

"Sir, I need to go _now_ ," Peter interrupted after ten minutes had passed. Before the teacher could respond, he leapt from his seat and was only stopped when Wade grabbed his wrist, fingers lightly encircling it.

"Tell me what's wrong," Wade commanded in a low voice, and this time he wasn't fooling around.

"I think I just saw Jimmy, and I have a really bad feeling about it," Peter explained in a hush while the rest of the class turned to look on. Peter saw understanding in Wade's eyes as Wade released his wrist, and he bolted to the door, leaving the teacher weakly protesting that he needed a hall pass or something.

Once in the hall, he frantically looked around, searching for any sign to tell him where Jimmy had gone. He started walking, then broke into a run, checking down halls until he got to Jimmy's locker. Nothing. If Jimmy was still in the school, the only place he could be besides the halls was one of the bathrooms, since the classes were all full. Peter started running again.

"Jimmy!" He burst into the first bathroom, the one closest to Jimmy's locker. Nothing.

"Petey! I texted everyone; they all got out of class and are looking," Wade called from behind him. Peter nodded, heart in his throat as he wondered which bathroom to pick next. The one in the science wing, obviously. He took off, Wade close behind him, only skidding to a halt when he reached the bathroom door.

He didn't hesitate, shoving it open and stepping inside.

"Ji—"

He stopped dead, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"Is he in there?"

"Wade, go get help."

"What—"

"Go get help _now. Now!_ "

Wade didn't question it; he immediately ran for class, flicking his phone open and dialing. Peter stood there for a second more, fear making ice run through his veins. Then he stepped inside and let the door shut behind him. There was nothing he could do as Spider-Man to make this okay. It was up to Peter Parker to do something now.


	4. Back And Forth Through My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same triggers as last chapter. It's just after midnight and I have to work and I'm dying (figuratively, dudes) but I wanted post this on May the Fourth be with you for absolutely no reason, it has nothing to do with this fic but ??? it's my fave day tbh. Thank you so much for your comments/kudos/everything, y'all are awesome and deserve the fourth being with you.

**T Minus 241 Days**

**Tuesday, Oct. 24**

**2:23 P.M.**

Peter sat with his head in his hands, unable to move or drum his feet or anything. He felt sort of numb, out of it in that way he got when he didn't get enough sleep and his head felt stuffed with cotton. The chair was comfortable enough, probably because it had been made for the sole purpose of long waits, but where it was situated wasn't the best position. Everything felt so... loud. The overhead hum of lights, the hushed murmurs of someone talking to the nurse at her desk, the whir of machinery and beeping his senses could pick up from the room down the hall. The smell, too. That was bad. Everyone always said hospitals smelled of sterilization (true on some levels), but they never mentioned the other smells underneath it. A sort of rotten, disturbing smell that stuck in your nostrils, your hair, your clothes. He wanted to douse himself in cheap hospital coffee to make it go away.

"Peter," a soft voice whispered beside him, fingers resting lightly on his sleeve. "Look at me."

He lifted his head from his hands to give Liz a flat look, unsure what kind of expression he was supposed to wear in this sort of a position.

"You need to get washed up," she continued in that same hushed whisper, reaching up to tenderly brush the hair back from his face. "You also need a change of clothes. Is there anyone I should call?"

Peter looked down dully at his clothes and hands, realizing as if for the first time that they were stained with blood. It must be on his face now, too. He shut his eyes against the memory, but it sucked him in anyway.

 

_The door shut behind him with a loud click as he stepped further into the room. The pool of red took up nearly half the floor space, the edges rolling out on themselves to spread further with every second he stood there doing nothing. Not giving himself time to think, he stepped through the pool and dropped to his knees beside Jimmy, whose chest was rising and falling quick and shallow._

_"Jimmy, listen," Peter panted, panic constricting his throat and blurring his vision. "You're going to be okay, you hear me?"_

_He'd worn the suit that morning so it was just under a sweater he'd thrown on. Jimmy's eyes had fluttered open weakly, pupils dilated with fear as he'd watched Peter tear the mechanism that created his webs out of his suit's wrist and smash it against the floor. Part of it was metal wiring, but another part was adhesive. Peter's fingers were wet with Jimmy's blood as he'd scooped up the adhesive, the stuff sticking to his fingers._

 

"My Aunt May," Peter croaked, scrubbing his hands over his jeans to try and clean them. He stood when he realized it wouldn't come out from under his nails, gesturing for Liz to sit when she half-stood with him. "I'll call her after. I need to wash my hands first."

Liz nodded in understanding, eyes full of sorrow as she resumed staring at her own hands. They twisted into fists as Peter watched, and her face that was usually so gentle grew angry as she slammed a fist against the chair hard enough for it to hurt. When she caught Peter looking, she gave him a tight, helpless smile.

"I just don't know what to do," she explained in a small voice. "I'm angry and I don't even know who to be angry at."

"It's okay to be angry," a third voice joined in, and Michele entered the room with Ned trailing behind her, both of them carrying coffee trays. "The cops are questioning Wade now and I think he broke a chair he was so mad."

Ned nodded, blowing on a coffee and then handing it to Liz, who accepted it gratefully.

"They understand, though," Ned said sadly, holding out a coffee for Peter. "This whole thing is routine; they don't think we did anything. I think one of the guys they have in there is a psychologist. He calmed us and Wade down."

"I'll grab it after I've washed my hands, but thanks," Peter muttered of the coffee. "Yeah, I got that feeling too. They're good at their jobs. It's not them we should be angry at."

"Then who?" Liz asked, running a stressed hand through her hair. "The bullies? His parents? Ourselves? Him?"

"Hormones," Michele answered, taking a seat beside Liz and sipping her coffee. "Those little assholes getting fucked up in his brain. Trust me on this one."

Peter nodded in a daze, not really hearing what anyone was saying as he turned to make his way to the bathroom. It was a nice, modern thing with automatic everything, and Peter spent a bit just staring at his pale skin in the mirror before he reached down to cup a handful of cool water and pour it over his face. He methodically worked the blood from the cracks in his skin, watching pink swirl down the drain as his memories continued to play out.

 

_"Okay, okay, we've got this." Peter tried for a light-hearted tone, though it didn't work when his voice audibly cracked near the end and he nearly slipped in the pool of warmth beneath him. He reached down and took Jimmy's hand in one of his, their hands making an odd squelching sound as they met and the blood bubbled between their palms. "You're going to hold on, right? You can do that? For me? You promised you'd get that cross back."_

_"Pe...te..." Jimmy whispered, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes as his hand hung limp in Peter's._

_"Don't talk," Peter ordered as he started spreading the adhesive from his webbing over the gashes in Jimmy's arms. "Just don't talk."_

Peter finished washing up as best he could. There was nothing he could do about the stains on his clothes, and he didn't really feel like washing those anyway. The second he took them off, they'd be going straight in the trash so he didn't have a reminder of this day.

He grabbed for some paper towel only to find that there was none, so he flicked the water from his hands in the general direction of the sink then exited the bathroom. When he got into the waiting room, he saw Wade being escorted by the probably-a-psychologist at the end of the hall, and he wanted to go over and grab the other boy. Not say anything, not have anything said back, just... grab onto Wade's hand. A lifeline for the both of them since Wade had come in before the ambulance had arrived and was just as shaken up as him.

He took one step towards where Wade was, watching the blond jerk his head up to meet Peter's eyes, but someone barrelling towards him distracted him. He turned in the nick of time to be enveloped in a hug and the scent of expensive cologne.

"Jesus, kid," Tony muttered as he squeezed him. "Calling to say you're alright wouldn't hurt when everyone just heard some kid at your school is in the hospital." Right. His phone had been going off the entire time he'd been here, but when he'd checked it there had been a bunch of texts from his classmates that he couldn't deal with, so he'd turned it off.

"Sorry," he said as he hugged Tony back, still feeling like he would wake up at any second. Tony stepped back with a shake of his head, really _looking_ at Peter now. His brow furrowed at the blood and he opened his mouth to say something.

"Peter!"

Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off as Aunt May flung herself at her nephew, wrapping both arms around Peter and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe.

"Are you alright?"

It was that question that finally broke him. Her voice was too gentle and motherly for him to hold himself together anymore, and her hug felt so much like home that everything in him instinctively relaxed so much that all the stuff he'd been holding back came out.

 

_Jimmy wheezed, his hand squeezing Peter's with what strength it had left. Peter focused on Jimmy's face, not wanting to look at the straight razor just to the left of him or the vertical slices that had let all the blood out onto the floor. His adhesive held so that Jimmy was no longer losing blood, but with the amount on the floor he wasn't sure that it mattered. And Jimmy's hand was freezing._

_"Don't do this to us, Jimmy," Peter begged as the boy's lashes closed and his breathing slowed. "I don't know why you did it, but it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to leave."_

_Jimmy's breaths were stuttering now, and Peter could feel his hand shaking._

_"Please, Jimmy. There's so much more. Please."_

_His hand stopped shaking and went limp as he fell fully into unconsciousness. Wade appeared a second later, stopping in the doorway and then walking slowly to Jimmy's other side to sink down and grab Jimmy's other hand. There was nothing they could do but wait until the ambulance showed up, and as Jimmy's breathing continued to grow more laboured, they reached out with their free hands to twine their trembling fingers together._

"He was scared, Aunt May," Peter sobbed into her shoulder, not caring who saw anymore. "I can't stop thinking about it, because that feels like the worst thing of all. What if that's the last thing he ever felt? What if he was wondering what happened afterward and thought he'd stop existing? What if he does stop existing? What if he goes to hell?"

Aunt May let him cry, simply holding him the entire time and stroking her hand through his hair in that soothing-motherly way. What if, what if, what if. It was all Peter could think of, and the fear of thinking it all made him have to take shuddering gasps in between sobs. No one said a word as Aunt May guided him to the seats farthest away from everybody, sitting there and holding him while he cried. He didn't think it would end, but eventually he was so exhausted from it all that his tears dried a little and he fell asleep with his head on Aunt May's shoulder.

 

**T Minus 241 Days**

**Tuesday, Oct. 24**

**3:17 P.M.**

Wade was sitting beside Liz, holding her hand, when her parents ran in. They were the last of the family to come in after Michele's younger brother and mother had come to take her out for lunch, Ned's parents had showed up and sat talking in low voices with him, and Peter's aunt had held him while he fell asleep. Tony Stark was also there for Peter, sitting on the other side like some sort of bodyguard, and in the back of his mind Wade thought maybe that had some significance. It didn't matter right now, though.

"Elizabeth!" a gorgeous woman resembling Lupita Nyong'o cried, and Liz stood as the woman grabbed her and pulled her into a huge hug. A second later a tall, gangly man was hugging both his wife and daughter, and Wade got up from his seat to give them some room. He cast a glance back to where Peter was resting fitfully on his aunt's shoulder, face contorted as if in pain and fists clenched even in sleep. He was glad the kid had someone to depend on, since he himself wasn't great at that whole comforting thing. He realized he'd been a staring a few seconds longer than was comfortable when Peter's aunt caught him looking, and he quickly turned away to give everyone their space with their families. No one would be coming for him. That was fine, he could handle that. Sure, suicide was one of the few things that got to him since that little incident before his nineteenth birthday, but he could handle it alone. He was twenty-five, no matter what his body thought. He'd just—

"There he is," a familiar voice said, and Wade arched an eyebrow as none other than Charles Xavier wheeled into the waiting room, Erik hot on his heels.

"Hey, dads," Wade tried to joke, but it came out unconvincingly. Charles waved the pathetic attempt away as he reached Wade, then reached out to grab Wade's hand. He enfolded it with both of his own, searching Wade's eyes intently.

"How are you? Really?"

Wade's first instinct was to lie. His second was to get the hell outta there, even though he had a feeling Erik could stop him before he got more than two steps. Charles read them both and shook his head mutely. Wade heaved a long sigh, then stopped with the theatrics as Erik laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Pretty shit," he admitted. "I guess I forgot that serious things can happen when you're a kid too. It doesn't feel like anything can defeat any of us until it does, you know?"

"This won't defeat you," Erik answered adamantly. "We'll be here for you and for Jimmy. Charles told me everything. We won't tell secrets that aren't ours to tell, but I think all of you can help him."

"How? We don't even know if he's going to be alright."

"He will be, Wade. He will be."

They spent the next hour sitting together. Not talking, just sitting. During that time Wade watched as Peter woke up and the two of them shared a glance that Wade wasn't sure how to interpret. Kind of a 'Are you going to be okay?' sort of thing. Somehow having Charles and Erik there was comforting, though Wade never would've admitted it.

It was just after four when the doctor came out and called Jimmy's name. Instantly, everyone untangled themselves from their families and swarmed her, every one of them anxious for any sort of news.

"He's going to be okay," was the first thing out of her mouth, and then they were all hugging each other. Wade could finally smile for the first time in hours, and when he hugged Peter they held onto each other for much longer than necessary. No one else had witnessed the scene so they hadn't understood how bad it was, but Wade and Peter had. They'd seen Jimmy's fear, had the image burned into their minds. When they finally let each other go from the hug, Peter grabbed Wade's hand and squeezed it while they listened to the rest of what the doctor had to say. Wade squeezed back and thought that maybe things could be alright after all. As long as Peter was holding his hand, they'd both be able to continue bluffing as hard as they could.

"He's had a lot of stitches and we gave him time to rest. We've been monitoring him to make sure the blood loss had no adverse effects, and he had to speak with one of our psychologists. Luckily, he pulled through without any complications. We have to keep him under observation for twenty-four hours, and what happens next is up to him. Our advisement is that he spends some time in a psychiatric ward, but there are other options. The reason I'm telling all of you this is because Jimmy gave his permission. He wants you to know what's going on without you having to ask many questions about it to him. Do you have any questions for me?"

"I know we're not family..." Liz began, and the doctor quickly held up a hand.

"Family is whoever the patient says family is. As far as we're concerned, you _are_ his family."

"So then... when can we visit?"

"Now, if you'd like."

"Yes. Please."

The doctor nodded as if she'd expected that, and everyone turned to give their guardians waves. Wade caught Peter's aunt and Tony Stark giving their entwined hands odd looks, but Peter didn't seem to give a shit. He only clutched Wade's hand tighter and practically dragged him down the hall to the room the doctor led them to.

It was small, a private room with the barest necessities. A large window with the blinds pulled halfway down, a single hospital bed with that blue waffle sheet that seemed standard, a closet, a bedside stand, one machine to measure vitals, another with an IV bag, a couple of chairs. And, of course, the walls and floor were white. The only thing to break up the monotonous colour was a large, empty corkboard on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

"Wait a moment you two," the doctor called as Wade and Peter went to go inside. They hung back while everyone else filtered in with greetings, waiting. "You were the two who came with him in the ambulance?"

Peter nodded, and Wade watched him swallow nervously. The ride had been a blur; Wade could barely remember anything more than paramedics shooting med language at each other and the sound of sirens.

"I thought you should know... Whatever adhesive you used to pinch his arteries together, it probably saved his life. If he'd lost any more blood than that, there wouldn't have been much we could've done for him."

"Okay," Peter croaked, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. Wade still had no idea what Peter had done in the bathroom but it hardly mattered now. All that mattered was what the doctor had said and the way Peter was clearly trying not to lose it again.

"Are you ready to see him?" Wade whispered when the doctor walked away. "We can wait if you need to."

"No. Let's go."

When they entered the room, they were greeted by silence. Everyone looked up as Peter and Wade entered, stepping back to let them near the bed. Jimmy... fuck. He usually looked gaunt, but now he looked like some sort of wraith in the hospital bed. His arms were covered in gauze and surgical tape which stood out in stark contrast to his tanned skin, and his cheeks looked like they'd sunken in on themselves. The only thing he had going for him was a healthy flush to his face, probably from a recent blood transfusion.

"Hi," Jimmy murmured, going for a smile and failing miserably. No one knew what to say anymore now that they were actually here. Wade guessed that none of the others had much experience dealing with this situation. He stepped up to the side of Jimmy's bed, dragging Peter with him.

"You've seen better days, Little Italy," Wade teased.

"Totally," Michele agreed. "I mean, no offense, but this whole hospital gig doesn't suit you as well as that new haircut."

Jimmy reached for a smile again and managed to find it this time, a small one that didn't reach his eyes. Hey, it was a start.

"I can see the question you all want to ask," he said quietly as he turned his face to the ceiling, avoiding looking at anyone. "Or maybe there's more than one. I just... I couldn't tell you. I still can't."

"Why?" Wade prompted gently, taking one of the chairs since no one else wanted to.

"I don't want you to think I'm... I..."

His words hung in the air as the gang exchanged glances. Liz was the first to speak.

"I have obsessive-compulsive disorder. Not the 'oh everything needs to be straight or I'll be soooo mad' kind either. I need to take meds or sometimes I'll start washing my hands and I won't be able to stop. My brain will tell me that something horrible will happen if I do. Flash is the only one who knows; he helps me remember to take my meds. Everyone thinks I'm perfect, but I struggle with it. A lot."

She clasped her hands together as she spoke, staring at the ground. Jimmy turned his head and watched her silently, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"My little bro is bipolar." Michele looked Jimmy straight in the eyes, stating it unapologetically. "His moods mess with him sometimes. It's like... wow, let's buy a car one month. Then the next month he can barely get out of bed. His meds help most of the time. When he takes them."

Jimmy closed his eyes, nodding.

"Mom was an alcoholic for years," Ned sighed, taking the seat next to Wade. "Her father died at fifty from liver failure, and that was when she stopped drinking. She still has to watch herself though, and I never drink to support her. Lots of people say she was an alcoholic because she wasn't strong or something, but when you watch someone struggle with themselves for years over it? It's more than being strong or weak-willed."

"One of the men I respect most in the world has panic attacks," Peter spoke next. "He's the kind of guy who can take on the entire world and laugh. I don't think there's a single thing he's not good at... But deep down, despite how much of a brave face he puts on, even he struggles with how anxious he is about everything. Life isn't easy, even for someone who makes it look like it is."

"A couple of years ago..." Wade trailed off, wondering if everyone else felt this terrified confessing their secrets. Probably. Yet they did it anyway. "A couple of years ago, I was in the same spot you were. Well, not the exact same bed. But I felt so bad that I thought there was no way I could continue going on. I went with the old bottle of sleeping pills trick. I failed. And, let's be honest, life hasn't exactly been the best since then. I've seen and been through a lot of shitty things since it happened. But... a lot of cool things have also happened. I'm glad I stuck around to see if I would've regretted dying back then. When it's over, you don't live long enough to know whether or not you'd regret it. I'm glad it's not over, because if it was then I wouldn't have met all you cool cats."

Jimmy brought his arm up to his eyes as tears leaked down the sides of his face, and then he began weeping in earnest. It wasn't the loud, wracking sobs of someone who was grieving; it was a soft, defeated sort of weeping that probably everyone had done on some level. The crying-yourself-to-sleep kind, where you couldn't bury the day's sadness down anymore. No one tried to stop him, but Michele suddenly climbed into his bed and lay beside him. Liz joined her on the other side, and Peter let go of Wade's hand to sit on the end of the bed cross-legged. Ned grabbed one of Jimmy's hands, so Wade grabbed the other. And they let Jimmy cry until he had wept himself out of tears.

"I thought I would feel bad forever." Jimmy turned his head weakly towards the window, where the sun had dyed the sky a warm pink. "When you guys became my friends, I couldn't understand what was wrong with me. I should've been happier. I should've had more fun hanging out with you. I just... I couldn't have fun anymore. I figured that if I waited I would get better, but things got worse. My father runs illegal businesses, and when I told him I couldn't take them over because I didn't want to hurt anyone, he kicked me out of the house. I had nowhere to go back to. I couldn't feel happy anymore. My grades were bad because I stopped caring, which meant I wouldn't get into a good school anyway. I'm _tired._ "

"There's nothing wrong with who you are." Wade shook Jimmy's hand to accentuate his point. "Michele said it earlier and she was right. The hormones in your brain are fucked up, which means your happiness levels are fucked up. You don't have to feel bad forever. The doc can give you stuff to help."

"It's not as scary as it seems," Michele added, folding her hands over her stomach. "The first step—admitting you need help—that's the hardest. After that, there are tons of people who will help. Trust me, I went through the same shit with my bro."

"And if you need a place to stay, you can room with me," Ned broke in, grinning. "I mean, I can't promise my younger siblings won't eat you alive, but my older sister just moved out and we have a spare room. Mom would love to have someone to fill it up as long as you help with the chores."

"And school? Are you kidding me?" Peter laughed, more animated than he'd been in a week. "Those metaphors you give to help Wade are top class. Once you're back on track with school, you can join the tutoring sessions between Wade and I. You'll catch up to this idiot in no time."

"Ex _cuse_ me," Wade butted in, making a face. "Idiot? You told me I was quick in picking stuff up."

"Could you come up with metaphors the way Jimmy does?"

"That does _not_ affect—"

"Exactly. You can't."

A quiet laugh stopped Wade and Peter's arguing, and the two of them shot each other subtle grins as Jimmy's smile became real.

"Thanks. All of you."

"Dude, we're your friends," Ned yawned, blinking sleepily. "We'll be there for whatever you need. The only thing is that if you come chill at my place, you're going to need to get good at Borderlands. My siblings need someone to co-op with and I'm tired of being that person."

"I think I'm actually going to take the doctor's advice and spend some time in the psychiatric ward," Jimmy said hesitantly, lowering his eyes as if he was ashamed of his decision. "She said it would help with regulating a schedule and figuring out what works for me. Unless you guys think it's a bad idea..."

"Jimmy." Liz's voice was kind but firm as she gave him a stern look. "It's up to you to decide what's best for you. We'll support your decision no matter what it is, as long as you make it on your own."

"Then... that's what I'll do," Jimmy decided with a small nod. "I guess I should at least try to get better."

"Do you need money?" Peter asked, gnawing on his lower lip as if thinking about how much it would cost. Fair point. The procedures today plus a couple weeks in a mental hospital? There was no way a kid with no income or parental support would be able to afford it.

"He doesn't," a nurse answered as she breezed in, scooping up the chart hanging off the end of the bed and scribbling down Jimmy's vitals. "A Mr. Stark said whatever you need it taken care of."

Everyone's mouths dropped and they all turned to stare at Peter, who shrugged helplessly.

"Don't look at me!"

"He's _your_ billionaire philanthropist... friend thingie," Wade noted.

"You're not..." Jimmy paused, blanching as if whatever he was thinking disturbed him. "He _is_ a friend, right? Not something else?"

"I think what Little Italy is asking is if he's your sugar daddy," Wade broke in, suddenly wondering himself. Peter's cheeks blazed red as he buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

"Holy crap, no. I sort of work for him on the side helping him make machines and testing them out. God, why does everyone always think I'm the kind of person who gets involved in that sort of thing?"

"Because you come in late with unexplained bruises and no viable excuses to where you've been despite us being trustworthy people who deserve more than excuses," Michele pointed out. "Kinda suspicious."

"Would you mind discussing it in the waiting room?" the nurse asked politely, still busy scribbling. "I think Jimmy's had a long day."

They ceased talking when they realized Jimmy was half asleep, eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake to keep up with the conversation. He struggled to sit up when the nurse spoke to prove he was fine, but both girls pushed him back down.

"The nurse is right. We'll come visit you wherever you are tomorrow, Jimmy. Will you be okay for tonight?"

He slumped against his pillow, nodding. Everyone moved from their positions around the bed and gave him small fist-bumps as they began trickling out of the room. Peter was last, and Wade waited to the side while he reached down to fist-bump their friend. Before he could pull away, however, Jimmy beckoned him down. Peter's brows furrowed as he bent over and Jimmy whispered something in his ear. Try as he might, Wade couldn't catch anything he said except for the last part.

"I won't tell anyone."

When Peter leaned back, his face had taken on a greenish tint as he nodded quickly and then strode past Wade to head back to the waiting room where everyone was waiting. Before he could get there, Wade grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"What did Jimmy say?"

"Nothing." Peter's denial was a little too rapid for it to be nothing. "Just about the cross and stuff."

Wade debated asking more but it had been a long day and he knew everyone was exhausted. He released Peter's wrist and they stood awkwardly together in the hall for a minute. What did you say in a situation like this? A situation where your bond had been inexplicably forged through a terrible experience when you'd been trying to make your bond less important?

"Are you okay? Really?" Wade asked finally.

Peter nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets and then taking them out as if he couldn't decide what to do with them. Wade got so fed up that he finally grabbed both of Peter's hands in his own, trying to ignore the strange, familiar ache in his chest.

"If I'd have picked up when he'd called..."

"No, don't you ever think like that." Wade was a little shocked at how forceful his voice sounded, but Peter had to know it wasn't his fault. "This would've happened no matter what you did. This is something he chose to do, probably long before he called you. Trust me, Peter."

"You... What you said back there to him. Do you want to talk about it?"

Wade released Peter's hands, shaking his head. Now it was his turn to not know what to do with his fingers, so he settled for reaching up to fix Peter's collar. Bad idea. It brought them way too close together and Wade couldn't forget the feeling of Peter's lips on his own, despite how brief it had been. He would _not_ be that guy who took advantage of a situation where they were both hurting and made a bad decision to give them a momentary respite from pain. Nope. Not that guy.

"If you're ever struggling with anything," Peter murmured, and fuck if he wasn't the most earnest puppy-eyed guy Wade had ever met. "You'll tell me, right? I can't stand thinking that this could happen again to Jimmy or you or anyone. If you ever need to talk, I'll be there for you. I mean, this whole thing is probably messing with you, and I don't want you to have to think you need to suffer alone. You can call me, or come over, or just..."

Wade hadn't realized his hand had moved upwards until Peter abruptly stopped talking, his breathing sounding kind of funny as he turned his eyes towards where Wade's palm was now cupping the back of his neck. Why the fuck was it so difficult to _not_ do this? Usually it should be hard to show people how you feel. Was it because they both knew they had feelings for each other so it wasn't just a matter of does-he-like-me-back and sweaty palms?

"Wade, we can't." Peter's throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and though the words coming out of his mouth were no's, his eyes closed and he seemed to lean closer. "Our emotions have been so high today that it's probably worse than being drunk. Neither of us are thinking straight."

"Funny. I don't have many straight thoughts about you," Wade offered, though he couldn't quite make it into a joke. "What if..."

"Peter!" a voice rang through the hall, and they sprang apart as none other than Tony Stark strode purposefully towards them  looking like he had his own personal storm cloud hanging over his head.

"Well, if it isn't Iron Man! We were just..."

"Saying goodbye," Peter said pointedly, eyes wide as he subtly edged even further from Wade. "Jimmy is okay. I can't thank you enough for what you're doing for him."

"If you want to thank me, you'll let me take you home," Tony said, stepping between Wade and Peter and wrapping an arm around Peter to steer him away from Wade. "You must be exhausted. I've ordered in food so no one has to cook and I'll even do the dishes myself."

"That's... wow. Thanks, Mr. Stark. Oh, before we go, I should introduce you to Wade."

"Wade Wilson?" Tony's voice instantly went fifty shades sharper as he finally turned his eyes reluctantly to Wade. Uh-oh. It was never a good thing when someone knew his name. It wasn't like he tried super hard to hide his identity as Deadpool, either, so there was a very real possibility that Tony knew who he was.

"Yeah. I guess you know from that conversation you had with Michele." _What conversation with Michele?_ "Wade is a good friend of mine, and actually maybe I should offer to let you have dinner with us. What do you say, Wade?"

"I don't think he wants to," Tony shrugged flippantly, though over Peter's head his eyes were so dangerous that he could probably take the lenses out of his Iron Man suit and shoot lasers from his real eyes. "I'm sure he has something he'd rather be doing. Don't you, Winston?"

"Wilson. Wade Wilson," Wade answered sweetly with a smile that was all teeth.

"Sorry, Wayne."

"No problem, Mr. Snark. Sorry, Stark. Stark, huh? It's not exactly Parker; not even close. Who are you to Peter, anyway?"

"A friend. I've known him _a long time._ How long have you known him, Wyatt?"

"What is going on?" Peter snapped, and both men stopped staring each other down when they realized Peter was pretty pissed. "I don't know what's wrong with you two but Aunt May is waiting. Wade, are you coming or not?"

Wade held Tony's glare a second longer before replying.

"Sorry, I can't tonight. Gotta catch up with two old men. You and your Aunt May have a wonderful dinner though." He held Tony's gaze the entire time, making sure the Avenger knew he was purposefully leaving his name out.

_If we want to get on Peter's good side, shouldn't we be trying to get along with his father figure?_

**Why would we try to get along with him when he's being an asshat?**

_He also knows Spidey. He knows all the people we like._

**He wouldn't want us near them no matter how nice we were. May as well have fun with it. And naturally loathe him because he knows stuff about Petey and Spidey that we don't.**

"I'll see you around." Tony stretched out his hand and Wade took it, both of them gripping as hard as they good with tight-lipped smiles. Nope, there was absolutely no way Wade could ever learn to get along with this man.

"Let's go!" Peter called, already halfway down the hall.

They crunched each other's hands for a minute longer than necessary before finally releasing each other. Tony stalked away without another word and Wade held his smile for as long as he could. When Tony finally disappeared, Wade allowed the tears of pain into his eyes as he shook out his hand with a loud stream of curses.

_Well played, Iron Man. Well played._

**We'll win next time, though. You can bet on that.**

 

**T Minus 240 Days**

**Tuesday, Oct. 25**

**2:23 A.M.**

Peter lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he ran through a mental checklist of what had happened that day. Processing it all was probably going to take longer than a night, but he could try, right? The problem with that was the fact that What-ifs were still bothering him. What if he hadn't gotten to Jimmy in time? What if he'd picked up the phone, never mind what Wade said? What if Jimmy mentioned to someone that he knew Peter was Spider-Man, since he'd said he'd realized after seeing the web-shooter? What if Wade had finished his sentence before Tony interrupted them? He felt guilty wondering about that at a time like this, but he couldn't help it. What had Wade been about to say?

Yeah, this was getting nowhere. Instead of trying to think through it, he tried to distract himself instead. On the way home, he'd run into Deadpool _again._ He'd been driving home with Tony and Aunt May when sirens had made him squirm in the backseat. Tony had watched him for a while before finally taking pity on him and pulling over to let him out. He'd told Aunt May he was going to grab groceries and run home, then threw on his costume and found the cops chasing down a high-up drug dealer.

"Spidey!" Deadpool had screamed the moment he got close enough to stick a web in the way of the dealer's car.

"Why are you not dead yet?" he'd asked, rolling his eyes to the sky. Deadpool had promptly taken out his pistol and shot the drug dealer through the head before Peter could do anything, leaving the cops yelling in frustration.

"He had information they needed!" Peter had blown up, the stress of everything catching up with him as he'd slammed Deadpool against the wall of a high-rise. "They could've used him to take down someone bigger! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry, I'm blowing off steam and I've developed a new appreciation for Mothers Against Drug Dealers. I feel like a bunch of moms on a PTA would definitely be bloodthirsty enough to want drug dealers dead."

"It's Mothers Against _Drunk Driving_ you idiot."

"Same difference. I'm pissed because drug dealers are beating on a friend of mine and I want to get rid of them since he's having a shitty day."

Peter had had to take six deep breaths through his nose to calm down, reminding himself that he had no idea what was going on in Deadpool's life even if he wanted to _smash the guy's head against the wall repeatedly._ Deadpool was more chummy than ever after Peter had accepted that stupid stuffed unicorn, and he'd only done that so Deadpool wouldn't antagonize Tony by sticking around. He should've just denied it and let the men in red suits argue it out. Hell, Deadpool and Tony might not even be as bad as Wade and Tony had been at the hospital.

"No more. No more going after people when you don't have your healing factor."

"Aw, you _do_ care."

"I couldn't care less. I just don't want you getting in my way."

"But but but. Spidey, I even talked to a certain bald-headed mind-reader and came here specifically to warn you that someone knows your identity. That, and the drug dealer. Two birds with one stone."

Peter's blood had run cold at that. "What?"

"The guy at the bank robbery who saw your face? He was talking to another guy in prison who got a sketch artist to draw you. No one else knows and the bank robber got shanked, but someone dangerous knows your face and it's only a matter of time until they find you."

There had been more to the conversation than that, though it was mostly Deadpool flailing around like a moron and Peter ignoring him. That was the most concerning part, the one he thought about now as he lay awake. If someone knew your face and the general area you lived around, how hard could it be to find you? Sure, it was New York, but... Shit. He really shouldn't have taken his mask off. Did he tell Tony? No, he couldn't risk putting that on the Avengers when they were all messed up from the Bucky Incident. He'd just have to watch his back really, _really_ closely.

Turning over on his side and staring at the shadows playing on his wall, he figured he wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep that night. It was okay. Instead of that, he'd come up with plans on how to help Jimmy out. The psych ward was a good thing, but he'd need support when he got out too.

His phone buzzed and he finally looked at it after having ignored it all day. There were tons of texts from his classmates, and three missed calls from... no. _She_ hadn't called him in ages. Why now? He'd ignored every text and call from her since that day with Norman Osborn and Harry's screaming, and after a while she'd given up. It had been hard cutting her off like that, especially when he'd had to get Aunt May to lie to her when she'd come over to talk, but it had been necessary. Harry had been in the room after Norman had died. Harry knew he was Spider-Man. Said he wouldn't tell anyone, but Peter was no longer allowed to go near any of them or put the girls in danger. So did she call now, after all that time?

He hesitated. It was late. Or early, depending on the person. She probably wouldn't answer. Her phone was probably on silent. Okay, okay. He would call and if she didn't pick up by the third ring, he'd never try something so stupid again. He hit her number and brought it to his ear.

She answered on the first ring.

"Peter?"

Her voice was just as he remembered it, friendly and lyrical with a familiarity that made his throat ache.

"Mary Jane," he greeted, lukewarm. He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then a flurry of movement. If he was any normal person he probably wouldn't have been able to pick up the murmuring on the other end. He wasn't, and he instantly recognized Harry's voice as his former best-friend-forever told M.J. to ask him a question.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and he could hear Harry breathing too as if he were leaning close to the phone. Peter covered his mouth with one hand as his throat burned. After all this time, they were still worried about him. "We... I heard about some kid from your school in your grade having an accident and I was worried you might be involved. You're okay, though?"

"Yeah," he answered roughly, closing his eyes. Norman had almost killed M.J. and Gwen because of him, not that the girls knew that. "I'm fine. Thanks for calling."

He was about to hang up when a deeper, richer voice spoke.

"Pete. I know you know I'm here."

He didn't trust himself to speak, so he sat breathing jagged puffs of air into the phone. The last image he had of Harry was seared into his mind, his friend screaming in agony over his father's broken body and the girls lying unconscious behind him. _You never fucking come near us again, Peter Parker! You kill everyone you love! Your parents, my parents, Uncle Ben, M.J. and Gwen almost. How long until I'm dead? And then your Aunt May? Then the rest of our school? If you ever speak to one of us again, the whole world will know who you are. Get out. Get the fuck out!_

"Did you know that kid? The one who was hurt?"

Peter nodded, adding a small 'Yeah' after he realized that Harry couldn't see him.

"What happened?" Harry asked, tone indecipherable.

"He, uh..." Peter dug his hand into his hair, twisting a fist full of it. "He tried to kill himself."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he is now."

Silence on the other end. Then:

"You blame yourself for that, Parker?" Before Peter could reply, Harry forged on. "You probably do, right? I know you. You blame yourself for everything. If someone tells you it's your fault then you accept that too even if they fucked up. Let me tell you something now, Pete; it's not your fault. I'm not just talking about the kid in your school. What happened two years ago... That also wasn't your fault. I was hurt and angry and lashed out at the first person I could. It took so long to get over it that I couldn't call you when I finally did because I'm a fucking coward."

"Harry, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do. Do you wanna know why? Because, knowing you, you completely took what I said to heart. I've known you since grade one, Pete. I'm willing to bet any money that whatever new friends you have now, you're holding back from them because of what I said. Love, too, I imagine. When I heard the rumours that some kid killed himself, I thought... It's just, keeping everything to yourself is lonely. Do you have someone you love?"

The first image in his mind was Wade, though he wasn't strictly 'in love' with Wade quite yet.

"I like someone," he admitted.

"Are you holding back because you don't want to hurt them?"

Peter's non-response was as good as a yes to Harry.

"I don't know if I can ever fix things between us, but let me start to make it up to you by giving you some advice. Let them in. I was wrong when I said you killed everyone you loved. You know why? Because despite the fact that you put them in danger, you also do your best to make sure they live. M.J. and Gwen would've died if you hadn't intervened. Hundreds of people would've, in fact. I think being close to you actually decreases people's chances of dying because you try harder than anyone to protect the people you love. So whoever it is that you're holding yourself back from, stop."

Peter opened his eyes, watching the light from passing cars turn his room blue as he thought about how careful he'd been the past few years. Could he really do that? Could he open up to Wade and the others?

"You can do it," Harry encouraged as if reading his mind. "And I know I don't deserve it, but I'd like a second shot at being your friend, too. Come hang out with M.J., Gwen, and I at the usual coffee house on the weekend. I want to apologize in person."

Peter knew the saying. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice... But maybe this time he wouldn't be fooled into thinking things were safe. Maybe he could start slow and things could actually be safe if he was careful. Jimmy already knew his identity, so he could even start there.

"Okay."

He and Harry made plans with M.J. excitedly piping up with ideas in the background. It was just a casual meet up to have fun, but maybe it could be the start of something more. He could still hear the doctor saying that he'd saved Jimmy's life. Tony saying that he could also be a hero as Peter. What if...

What if.

 

**T Minus 226 Days**

**Wednesday, Nov. 8**

**3:57 P.M.**

Wade and the crew waited at the hospital entrance beside Michele's car, everyone folded in jackets against the crisp November air. The past couple of weeks had been a whirlwind of visits to the psych ward, studying like crazy for the next bio test (Wade wasn't even sure how he'd done on the first one yet, come to think of it), hunting down drug dealers despite Spidey repeatedly yelling in exasperation at him, and planning this particular day. D-Day. Day of Discharge, where Jimmy would be let out to face the war again.

"He's seemed better this past week," Peter murmured to Wade with his eyes on the door. Petey seemed better too. He was now frequently visiting his old friends in some quaint hipster coffee shop and he had become a lot more... sparkly. That was the only way Wade could describe it. He was grinning at everything, sharing more personal details, using those goddamn heart-eyes again, and a whole bunch of other shit that was, frankly, terrifying. It was if he'd decided to say 'fuck it' to the whole not-having-feelings thing. At this rate, Wade would only fall harder. It was up to him to maintain a professional-ish distance.

"Of course he is," Wade answered curtly, though his brisk tone didn't dim Peter's smile any. Fucking kids and their optimism. "He's got some stability, we're here for him, and he knows those drugs will make him feel better in a couple more weeks. Not to mention he's been exercising since he thinks he needs to put on some muscle."

As if on cue, the automatic doors rolled open to reveal a much healthier-looking Jimmy. The gauntness was gone from his face, his expression was open and curious, and he wasn't walking like a zombie anymore.

"Jimmy! Jimmy James! James Dean!" Wade called, tossing a leather jacket that no longer fit his smaller frame at the boy. Jimmy caught it reflexively, giving it a thoughtful glance before shrugging it on. As the son of a crimelord (Wade had looked into that situation fairly quickly only to realize that Jimmy was right to get out), he needed to look like a badass. To make sure the assassins his father had hired (and Wade had killed) knew not to fuck with him.

"Thanks for picking me up," he said with a small grin at everyone, looking embarrassed at the attention. He'd stopped talking about himself after he got into the psych ward, going back to his usual quiet self, but there was something more open about his expressions.

"Oh, Jimmy," Liz cried, making the boy jump three feet in the air. "You have no idea what you're in for. This isn't just us picking you up." She tried to hold a serious expression for as long as she could before a smile bloomed across her face.

"Uh... what..."

"Don't ask," Ned advised, shaking his head with a nervous-wincing-laughing expression as he opened the passenger door to let Jimmy ride shotgun.

"And don't tell," Michele finished from inside the seat, shutting _The Raven King_ (either the gay sports one or the gay dreamer one; Wade wasn't entirely sure) and tucking it away. "Seriously. My father would kill me if he found out."

Jimmy got in the front and the rest of them piled in the back, Liz insisting that Peter be the one to sit on someone's lap. Of course he ended up on Wade's lap. Of course.

"Wade." Peter's voice was oddly calm in a way that definitely suggested a storm was coming as Michele peeled out of the hospital parking lot. "Do you have something in your pocket?"

"Wade!" Liz shrieked with a laugh as she punched him in the arm.

"Not in my car," Michele groaned, while Ned ducked his head and tried desperately to focus on whatever game he was playing now. Jimmy had his lips pressed tightly together as if trying not to laugh.

"Ten long, hard inches of..."

Peter's eyes went huge.

"A Snickers bar. In case anyone starts feeling like they're not themselves."

There was a collective sigh around the car, and Michele switched on some tunes so they wouldn't have to listen to Wade talk. The second the first beats of yet another eighties song started in the car, Michele cranked down the windows despite the cold and blasted it out for the whole city to hear. It felt almost more badass than donning the Deadpool suit. Wade stuck one hand out the window and surfed it through the wind while Peter stretched his legs across Liz and Ned's laps. Michele held up three fingers, then two, then one, then...

"I'M GUNNA FIGHT 'EM OFF!"

The yell from every single (and dating) person in the car sounded so bad it was good.

"A SEVEN NATION ARMY COULDN'T HOLD ME BACK!"

The rest of the drive was a ridiculous game of six-person karaoke. When they finally got to their destination, everyone was flushed and giggling. Boys can giggle too, you know.

"What is this?" Jimmy asked in confusion when they piled out of the car. Wade draped an arm over the little Italian's shoulder, waggling his eyebrows at the others.

"Who wants to tell him?"

"Jimmy." Liz's voice was kind as she reached up to fluff up his hair. "We wanted to do something for all of us to remind us that we've got a lot of living to do. It's for you, and for Wade, and for all of us, really. It was Peter's idea."

"M.J. and Gwen suggested it," Peter corrected sheepishly. "And Wade is the reason we can do it in the first place."

"Hey, I'm just the man with the connections." Wade looked over Anna's place with pride, happy he'd been able to participate. "Anna's the best tattoo artist around."

"I don't get it. Tattoos?"

Peter shifted, half-excited, half-nervous. God, he was adorable. No. No, he wasn't. He was just normal. _Fuck._

"Have you ever heard of Project Semicolon?" he asked, reaching out to tap the smooth, unmarred skin of his wrist. Jimmy nodded slowly, then more vigorously as he realized what they were planning to do. When he looked back at the tattoo parlour, his eyes were shining with tears that he quickly whisked away.

"Only if you want to," Ned added, clapping one of Jimmy's shoulders affectionately. "Up to you, man. If this isn't something you want to remember, that's cool too."

"No, I'm not sad," Jimmy croaked, the widest smile Wade had ever seen splitting his face. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means."

"Your story isn't over," Michele shrugged, acting like getting their wrists tattooed was no big deal. "Not yours, not Wade's, not mine, not anyone's. We've got a lot more to do before that happens."

The door to the parlour flew open before Jimmy had a chance to respond, Anna stomping out with a fierce smile as she took in their little group. Man, Wade had forgotten how hot she was since he'd only talked to her over the phone, telling her some friends of his would be stopping by since he didn't want to explain the de-aging thing. Tall, dark-haired, and tattooed from her shoulders to her wrists, she looked like she could pick you up and dump you in the trash without breaking a sweat. And you'd thank her for it.

"You the kids my friend was talking about?" she asked, miles of dark skin showing as she shifted and her leather skirt was hiked a little higher.

"Y-yes. Yeah. Maybe?"

Everyone who had been about to answer stopped when Michele actually stumbled over her words. Was she... _blushing_? Michele Gonzalez, who had a sharp comeback for everything and never got nervous?

"Then let's get you some ink," Anna purred, reaching out to trace a line down Michele's arm. "Skin as lovely as yours is just itching to have a story written on it."

Michele flushed even darker as Anna's fingers lightly encircled her wrist and Anna tugged her towards the parlour.

_Should we give them some alone time?_

**Anna and Michele. Who would've thunk it.**

_Can't decide who'll have her hands more full. They're perfect for each other._

Wade didn't realize he was the only one still standing there with an idiotic smile at the fact that he'd basically played matchmaker until his hand was grabbed.

"Chickening out?" Peter teased. "Come on, I think you can handle the pain."

"Oh, I'd never chicken out of watching you cry. I only wish I was the one making you cry. In ecstasy."

"Right," Peter scoffed as he dragged Wade with a surprisingly strong grip to the parlour. "Because you could really keep going long enough to make me feel good."

"What did you just say?" Wade was pretty sure his eyes were bugging out of his head as Peter faced forward, though Wade could tell from the tips of his ears that he was blushing. "Because it sounded like—"

"Nope, nothing, never mind," Peter cut him off quickly, releasing his hand as they stepped into the place that had been shut down just for them. "Pretend I never said it."

"I can't," Wade whined. "It's going to fuel my wet dreams for the next three years."

"The only thing that's going to be wet in your dreams is your blood," Peter muttered with a roll of his eyes. Wade was going to slam him up against the wall right there if their chemistry didn't stop driving him crazy. Instead, he grabbed a seat to watch the festivities and took the Snickers bar out of his pocket.

It didn't actually help him feel more like himself.

**T Minus 226 Days**

**Wednesday, Nov. 8**

**9:03 P.M.**

It was the big finale of the night when they finally had their tattoos finished and headed back to Michele's place for the party. Wade had been right about the crying; Peter had teared up at the pain, Wade had wailed (though more out of dramatics than real pain), Ned had dug nail cuts into his palm, Liz had sweated slightly, Jimmy had leaned his head against the chair and taken deep breaths, and Michele... Well, her case was different. She'd stubbornly refused to show any pain, instead content to trade witty book quotes with Anna while they eye-fucked each other. In a few hours, their relationship seemed to have progressed more than Wade and Peter's in the last couple of months.

"What kind of party is it?" Jimmy wondered as they pulled up to the empty house. Michele's family had agreed to stay at their cottage so the crew could have the house for the night.

"First, no alcohol," Liz answered absentmindedly as she got out and started unloading pop from the trunk. "No peer pressure in this group, and Ned doesn't drink so none of us do."

"Second, it's a girls' party." Michele kicked open the door to her house, holding it open for Liz. "We're doing facials, nails, and hair. We want this to be a fun, straight-white-girl sleepover."

"Third, it's a boys' party." Ned put his game away as they all stepped into the house. "We're lifting weights, dressing in jerseys, and watching a football game. It also has to be a straight-white-dude sleepover."

"Mix 'em in a pot with Mexican food made by Michele's brother, and you have the recipe for the best night of your life," Wade quipped. "Unless you've had an orgy. Then the orgy was probably first, and this will be second."

"Have _you_ had an orgy?" Peter challenged, making his voice sound as bitchy as possible to begin their festivities right.

"I plead the fifth."

Peter let out a dramatic sigh, and Jimmy caught on a second later. The next hour saw the six of them acting like mean girls while they painted each other's nails hot pink, smeared some of Michele's mom's gross cucumber stuff on their face, and twisted braids into their hair. The guys all failed at braiding, so Liz and Michele had to do most of the work. Their nails also looked pretty terrible, but it was so much fun no one cared. Peter, especially, found he couldn't really concentrate on the nails when Wade looked too attractive for his own good with tiny braids.

"You look super gay," Wade clucked in a high-voice, waving his nails dramatically. "Quit, like, looking at me like I'm some juicy piece of ass. I know I'm hot but, like, I have a personality you _jerk._ "

"Um, excuse me? I'm not exactly _straight_ , Wadenona Rider. Do you have a problem with homosexuals?"

"Wadenona?" Michele asked, downing half a bottle of Pepsi and belching loudly. "Only thing bitch has a problem with is Christmas lights."

"Fuck yeah," Liz grumbled in a voice that sounded like a good impression of an ape. "Got a nice set of tits on her, though."

"Oh we're in _that_ stage now?" Wade asked. Before Peter had a chance to react, he drew his hand back and slapped Peter's ass firmly. It was so unexpected that Peter almost hit the ceiling and ruined his identity as Spider-Man. Wade winked.

"No homo, bro. Dudes like to slap each other's asses, and there's no homo if we say no homo, dude-bro-guy."

"Bro," Jimmy broke in, stifling laughter. "I totally get it. And if you bros make out, you can still keep your man-card as long as you say no homo."

"Hear that, dude? We can make out."

Wade winked again to show he was joking, but Peter's stomach fluttered in a way that was stupid. He may have been thinking about trying relationships again, but now was really not the time. The next couple of hours after that were spent in football jerseys with black paint smeared across their cheeks. The only one who really knew what was going on during the game was Jimmy, but Wade gave convincing voiceovers about how the plays were about establishing manly dominance. By the time the game ended and everyone was ready to sleep, Peter's sides ached from laughing so hard. Jimmy wasn't in much better condition, and Peter had to agree with Wade's initial statement that this would be the best night of their lives. They didn't end up having the naked pillow fight Wade suggested since they fell asleep early, but it didn't matter. This was real friendship.

The next morning Peter was up before anyone else, waving goodbye to Wade when the blond blearily glanced up from his sleeping bag on the floor. He was going to web home, change, then come back and hitch a ride with them to school. Unfortunately, that's not the way it went.

The second he snuck through the door he knew he was in trouble. Aunt May was sitting on the couch in the living room so she could keep an eye on the kitchen door, and when she arched an eyebrow and beckoned him over he knew there was no good news to be had from this. The feeling grew worse when he stepped into the living room and found Tony Stark sitting on the couch opposite his aunt.

"Peter, we need to talk," Aunt May said seriously, gesturing for him to sit. He swallowed, catching Tony's eye and wondering if this was about him being Spider-Man. Judging from the slightly horrified, I-tried-my-best-kid expression on his face, it was. Peter perched on the end of the couch, making sure to be in flight position in case Aunt May lost it.

"I was just at Michele's last night," Peter began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I know. That much I know. I called her mother to make sure she had people watching the house in case the party got out of hand. That's not what concerns me. What concerns me is the fact that I tried to talk to her about the seven or eight other times you've been 'hanging out with Michele.' She said she's never met you, which is odd because Michele usually goes straight home after school."

"I..."

"This isn't the first time I've caught you lying, either. I've called Mr. Stark here to stage an intervention because I'm _worried_ about you, Peter. I called your school too after that incident with Jimmy, and they said there's bullying that sometimes goes on there? You come home later with excuses that don't add up and a couple of times I checked on you at night, you were gone. I never mentioned it because you came back every morning and I thought it was part of the grieving process. I thought you would eventually let me in on what's going on. But you haven't. I still don't know where you're going or what you're doing. Are people bullying you, Peter? Is that it? I'm not asking you to tell me everything, but you need to give me something."

Aunt May took a huge breath after spilling all of that, folding her hands together as she regarded Peter with much more worry than he ever wanted to see on her face. He risked a glance at Tony, who looked supremely uncomfortable at participating in the whole thing when he knew the truth behind Peter's random disappearances. He could tell her. Right here, right now. He could give her the truth and make her worry, but at least she'd know. Or he could totally lie.

"Okay," he sighed, wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans. _This is a terrible idea, Parker. God. Don't say it. Don't even think about it._ "You want the truth?"

_No. Do not._

"The truth is..."

He snuck a glance at Tony, who was grimacing and shaking his head.

_You're going to do it, aren't you? *sigh*_

"I have a boyfriend. W-Wade. Wade Wilson, the guy from the hospital. He's my boyfriend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you can't... guess where this is headed... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	5. A Little Old Place Where We Can Get Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay mostly no cliffhangers this time (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

**T Minus 225 Days**

**Thursday, Nov. 9**

**7:12 A.M.**

"Longing," Charles whispered, tracing his fingers over the helmet of Cerebro on his lap. "Rusted."

Strange was still trying to get through to him, but when he closed his mind down and didn't use Cerebro then there was no way for the magician to get in his head. The last words Stephen had said to him rattled around in his mind, sinking deep into his subconsciousness, but he did nothing to stop them from meaning anything.

"Seventeen."

_—I've discovered a part of Doom's plan, Charles._

"Daybreak."

_—He knows he can't defeat the X-Men and Avengers on his own, so he's planning to ally himself with other vengeful things that are on Earth right now._

"Furnace."

_—As of yet, I have no idea who these beings are. But you can bet they've already started putting some sort of plan in motion._

"Nine. Benign."

_—Are you even listening to me? This is incredibly important!_

"Homecoming."

_—We need to warn the others. I'm in a different dimension, so you need to warn everyone._

"One."

_—Charles? Charles! What's wrong with you? Don't break off contac—_

"Freight Car."

He twisted his fingers in the thick wires connecting the helmet to the machine, gritting his teeth as he tugged as hard as he could. There was a loud tearing sound as he tore them away one by one. When he was finished, he let the helmet fall to the ground as he turned his chair around. He listed off the ten words again, then repeated them in Russian. Perfect.

"Charles?" Erik asked sleepily as he wheeled back into their shared bedroom. He paused in the doorway, watching Erik's silhouette sit up and face him.

"Why are you up this early? Classes don't start until nine. Is something the matter?"

A voice screamed in the back of his mind, clamouring to get out and use the lips he now put a smile onto as he made his way to the side of bed and used his arms to manoeuver himself back into it. Lying on his back with that same too-wide grin plastered on his face, he shook his head.

"No, Erik. Absolutely nothing is wrong."

 

**T Minus 225 Days**

**Thursday, Nov. 9**

**11:04 A.M.**

Wade set his legs on the top of the cafeteria's table, earning disgusted looks from probably everyone in the room. Didn't matter to him though; Peter had spontaneously decided to give them all a day off from studying (they were finishing their math reviews due next period as they ate instead) so he was going to enjoy it. Enjoying it. _Enjoying_. Enj...

"Listen, I can't fucking enjoy my day off if you keep looking at me like I killed seven of your puppies and then stabbed you in the heart with one of their rib bones," he finally burst out, removing his legs from the table as Peter looked away again and bit his lip nervously. "What is _wrong_ with you? First you walk into bio all shaky and pale and don't talk to me, then you avoid me in the halls to hide behind Michele, and now you aren't laughing at any of my jokes or yelling at me for being inappropriate. Are you pissed at me or something? Did I moan your name all night and sleep-crawl into your sleeping bag with a raging—"

"What?" Peter choked out, a little too loud. "No! It's nothing like that. It's nothing _you_ did, per se..."

He trailed off, poking at the burger he'd taken apart and put together again eighty times in the past minute. Michele slammed _The Handmaid's Tale_ shut abruptly, setting it on the table and turning to give Peter one of the most exasperated looks Wade had ever seen. Liz coughed into her fist as she tried not to laugh, Jimmy smirked down at his protein drink, and Ned reached over to pat Peter's hand reassuringly.

"Okay, what am I not in on?" Wade asked, crossing his arms. Michele's eyebrows went even higher into her hairline. Peter focused on her, giving her puppy-eyes that would've made even Wade wilt (okay, maybe it wasn't that difficult for Peter to make Wade go soft... or hard, for that matter), but she didn't even blink. She tilted her head to one side and had an entire conversation without moving her mouth. Strong was the eyebrow game with this one.

"Alright! Fine!" Peter exhaled noisily, reaching out to grab a can of coke to hide his expression behind. "I _may_ have _accidentally_ told a small lie that made my aunt and Mr. Stark totally freak out, that could _possibly_ involve them wanting to meet you during dinner at my place tomorrow night."

"Wait..." Wade took in everyone's expressions, all of them trying desperately not to laugh at Peter's fingers tightened around his unopened coke hard enough to leave dents in the aluminum. "What? What what? What'd you _say_?"

"I told them, that, uh."

Wade splayed his hands out on the caf table, leaning forward now with open curiosity. Peter hunched his shoulders up, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "That you were my, well, sort of."

His last word was lost in a huge popping sound as the can in his hand suddenly exploded, spraying sugary brown and flecks of blood all over the place. Peter let out a hiss as he removed his fingers from the holes in the side and stuck most of them in his mouth, sucking on the cuts as Michele uncurled herself from where she'd lunged protectively over her book.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Peter blubbered around his fingers while everyone stared at him. He stood up quickly, hopping over the bench and taking off while Wade reached up to wipe the pop from his lashes. He ran his tongue around his mouth to gather the stuff there, nodding in approval. Fresh.

"Go after him," Liz sighed as she took a new scarf off and dabbed her shirt with it, passing it around for the gang to dry themselves off.

"Ask him what kind of fuckery this is," Michele added as she mopped at the table. "Tell him that kids shouldn't be on steroids."

"Got it." Wade started towards where Peter had disappeared, then leaned back and snatched the hamburger, cramming half of it into his mouth. Everyone in the group rolled their eyes and he gave them waves before jogging to the cafeteria entrance. Peter wasn't this way or that way when he looked, so he chose the closest bathroom since Peter had run off like someone in a high school drama and they always went to the bathroom. Ironically, it was the bathroom they'd first met in. How romantic.

When he got to the door, he heard muttering that was most definitely Peter.

_We shouldn't eavesdrop._

**Shouldn't has never been a problem.**

_Three thumbs up._

**We only have two.**

_The third one isn't a thumb._

Wade had to stifle a giggle in his palm as he pressed his ear against the door.

"—stupid, stupid, stupid, Parker. The only valedictorian you're going to be is the valedictorian of fuckups."

_N I C E. We'd vote for him._

"Just tell her. Tell her. Grow up, be an adult. Call her and tell her right now."

Harsh breathing, the sound of fumbling with something. Wade got some very strange looks from people walking by but he brought a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. There were tiny, quiet clicks as if Peter was dialling something. And then a yell of frustration, followed by a thump and a loud "Ow." Wade took it as his cue, shoving the door open to find Peter with his foot stuck in the wall. Halfway into the plaster.

"I won't tell anyone," Wade said immediately as Peter jerked his foot back and peered into the hole. Wade strode over to crouch down beside him and look into it as well. Wow. It was pretty deep.

"I told Aunt May and Mr. Stark you were my boyfriend," Peter muttered, still looking at the damage he'd done. "Aunt May staged an intervention and I couldn't tell her the real reason I was always out, so I used you as an excuse. She and Mr. Stark want to meet you at dinner because they think we've been going out for the past two years, since my uncle died. I'm _sorry._ I thought they'd just accept it and no one would have to know."

"Peter." Wade blew a breath out, rocking back and forth on his toes. Well, shit. Fake boyfriend trope usually led to real boyfriends, and they'd already established that being real boyfriends couldn't happen. Wade was already too attracted to this fine specimen of a boy beside him to make their relationship more intense. Which being fake lovers could do.

"I'll tell her I lied," Peter murmured in defeat, sinking back to sit down and curl his knees up to his chest. "I'll tell her the truth. I'm such an idiot. She was actually so happy to hear that one of the secrets I've been keeping is that I'm... bisexual. It feels weird to put a label on it after not talking about it for so long. Anyway, it's fine. This is on me. I just can't stop picturing how heartbroken she'll be when she finds out I don't have a boyfriend."

Wade knew this was Peter talking himself through the situation and not trying to guilt trip anyone. He _knew_ that on every level possible, especially since Peter had scooped up his phone and was dialling with shaking fingers again. But. Fuck! He'd seen Peter's aunt at the hospital and she'd had the same soft doe-eyes, so imagining both of them being way too nice and trying not to show how sad they were to each other was killing Wade's soul. He let out a loud groan as he snatched the phone from Peter's hand, turning it off.

"I'll do it."

"What?" Peter was so comically caught off-guard that Wade wanted to snap a photo.

"I'll do it, okay? I'll pretend to be your luscious lover for one night and put up with your freaky father figure giving me the ol' shotgun stare. Ooh, I love alliteration."

"I... Wade, I can't ask you to do that!" Peter floundered, caught somewhere between shock and relief. Wade waved the words away with one hand, reaching out to tuck the phone into Peter's pocket and pat it.

"Not for free. Since I know you won't say it, I will; this Thing (capital T) between us hasn't gone away. It's going to make things really difficult because we have to pretend to have pretend feelings for each other while still pretending we're not pretending to not have real feelings for each other, you know? ...Wait, _do_ you know? Because I have no idea what the fuck I just said."

Peter stared at him for a minute, mouth hanging slightly open as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"I didn't catch that, say the word 'pretend' one more time."

"Oh, fuck off. It's going to be hard, and when I say 'it' I don't mean my dick. Or well, not _exclusively_ my dick, anyway."

" _Wade_. The price?"

"Tell me why you're going after drug dealers. That's it. Give me that one secret, and I'll keep a thousand others for you."

Peter's mouth shut as he turned away to hide his expression, flexing his fingers and making blood well up from the cuts on them again. He barely seemed to notice the pain, but it was bothering Wade. A lot. Enough that he reached up and tore his own sleeve off with a huff, then grabbed Peter's hand and wrapped the fabric around it to stop the blood. Peter turned back, blinking at the messy tie job and looking up at Wade.

"Nice fashion statement," he said, tipping his head to where Wade's sleeve was ripped off.

"I go for the schizophrenic-psycho-badboy-with-a-chip-on-only-one-sleeveless-shoulder kind of thing," Wade snickered back. Peter's eyes went all soft and mushy as he chuckled, and Wade internally cringed at how much it made his heart do a Thing. There were too many Things in this relationship already.

"Fine," Peter agreed mildly, taking his hand back from where Wade had still held it. "If you come to dinner and behave somewhat civilly tomorrow night, I'll tell you. You probably won't believe me when I do, but that doesn't matter. You just have to promise you won't tell anyone."

"I _just told you_ I'd keep a thousand secrets. How big is this one if you already don't believe me?"

"Pretty big," Peter admitted as he stood, looking somewhat amused. "Pretty damn big."

"That's what she said."

**T Minus 224 Days**

**Friday, Nov. 10**

**6:27 P.M.**

"He's going to be here any second," Aunt May worried as she fixed the tablecloth for the umpteenth time that night. She was so stressed about the whole thing that she was freaking even Peter out, and he had to grab her hands to stop her from trying to fix other things that were already completely straight.

"Aunt May, it's cool. Wade isn't the type of person who's going to judge everything and get all snooty about it. He's pretty accepting of... well, everything, to be honest."

"Oh, before I forget, what should I refer to him as?" Aunt May asked, looking as if the entire world hinged on that question. "I've been doing research about all different types of sexuality and genders, and I know some people are nonbinary. Is it 'him' or 'they' or 'her' or—"

"Him is fine," Peter sighed, wondering how he could get her to understand. "Just treat him like you would if I was bringing a girlfriend home. It's the same, except he's a guy. Just act normal."

"You've never brought a girlfriend home, either," Aunt May pointed out, glancing over his shoulder to look at the door. "I know I'm being 'that kind of parent,' but I really want to make a good impression on the first person you think is important enough to introduce to me. Two years is a long time, Peter, and I can't stand the thought of messing this up for you."

Wow, talk about guilt trips. The lie made Peter feel uncomfortable in his own skin as Aunt May smiled and reached out to pat his cheek gently, looking so proud Peter was ready to spill his guts then and there. She was too accepting of everything, and he knew deep down that she'd probably even accept him being Spider-Man. But she would worry constantly and that would eventually take its toll on her health, the way it had after she'd lost Uncle Ben and a bunch of weight for the first year. He couldn't put her through that.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he tried not to show her how much it hurt to lie to her. She was the most wonderful person in the world. He so didn't deserve her.

"I love you, Mom," he whispered as he planted a kiss on the top of her head, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "You're the best."

"I couldn't be this good if you weren't the kind of son I could be proud of every day," Aunt May answered back, and ouch. Peter leaned back, the truth on the tip of his tongue, when a loud knock interrupted them. Aunt May's eyes widened as she stepped away and adjusted the dress she only wore on special occasions, giving Peter a huge grin.

Peter trailed after her as she opened the door, spreading her arms wide for a hug.

"I guess I'm not opposed," Tony said with a shrug, leaning down and hugging a very surprised Aunt May. After a moment she laughed, stepping aside to let him in.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago," Aunt May admonished, and Peter narrowed his eyes at the tiny bit of flirting in her voice. Not that he didn't think Tony was the coolest, but there was no way he was letting his aunt get together with an Avenger. Having two Avengers in her life was just asking for trouble.

"Had to fight some bad guys," Tony yawned as if it were no big deal. Oh no. Tony was _definitely_ not flirting back with his aunt. Peter took a step forward to prevent any further twisting of the hair or sassy smiles, but luckily Wade chose that moment to pipe up from the doorway.

"Good evening! Nice night out here, but I think at this particular moment I'd prefer to be in there with my boyfriend. Is that a thing I can say, Peter? Or is that laying it on too thick?"

Tony exhaled loudly through his nose, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he stepped aside to let Aunt May at Wade. She laughed in open delight at that terrible joke, then pulled Wade in for one of her super-special-reserved-for-family-only hugs. Over her shoulder, Wade made a what-the-fuck-have-I-gotten-myself-into face at Peter, looking rather terrified. Peter knew exactly how he felt.

"Come in, come in! You must Wade Wilson. I'm Peter's aunt, May. Feel free to call me Aunt May. I'm so excited to finally meet you!"

She ushered Wade in and shut the door behind him, looking him up and down while she helped him get his coat off. From where he couldn't see, she gave Peter a thumbs-up and an exaggerated wink. Peter wanted to die.

"Dinner will be ready at seven, so you two can catch up if you want." After Wade had removed his shoes and coat (he had a suit on underneath... Wade never wore suits, so Peter's breath caught a little in his throat), Aunt May folded her hands and waited. Peter realized after a moment that she was waiting for him to greet Wade. He stepped hesitantly into the foyer, reaching out to give Wade an awkward hug.

"You two don't have to be shy around me, ever. Love is love," Aunt May stated proudly, and Wade glanced at Peter with a question in his eyes. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Peter hadn't expected this part to be so soon, but he needed to keep up the act for Aunt May.

"Public displays of affection may not be their thing," Tony interrupted with a flippant shrug, though the look he gave Wade was the kind of look he'd once given a villain who was threatening to destroy the entire galaxy. Peter was about to nod in agreement, when Wade grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled them together, crushing his mouth against Peter's.

The offended growl Tony made was ungodly, but Peter scarcely noticed. The first time they'd kissed had lasted two seconds and hadn't really been a kiss, so when Wade held them together and flicked his tongue along Peter's bottom lip Peter was so unprepared that he made a noise. Not just any noise; it was a noise that made him want to sink into a hole so far down even Stephen Strange wouldn't be able to find him. Something between a moan and a squeak, that made Wade lean back and arch an eyebrow.

"Well." Peter's voice cracked as he tried to keep his hand from unconsciously coming up to his mouth. "Well. Um. Would you like to see my room?"

He realized belatedly how inappropriate that sounded after what had just had happened, and wow, if this was just the beginning of the night then how awkward would the rest of the night be?

"Excuse me, Peter, can I _talk_ to you for a second?" Tony asked in his good-boy voice with the most sarcastic smile on the face of the planet.

"Come on, Tony, he wants to show me his room," Wade purred suggestively, slipping an arm around Peter's waist. "I wanna see his _toys_. Do you have a piano up there, Peter? I'm a pianist, though I also love to play with my organ. Oooh, I can play the pipe too. I'm really good at blowing it."

"Turkey," Peter said faintly, waving his hands frantically as he tried to spit out words that weren't coherent in his head. "Have to... help Aunt May... Yep. I'll just..."

He slipped out of Wade's arm, nearly bumping into the wall as he fled to kitchen. Aunt May came in after him, eyes sparkling as she giggled like a school girl.

"He's too funny," she said in a low voice as she rolled up her sleeves to start mashing potatoes.

"That was highly inappropriate, Aunt May," Peter answered as he stirred the gravy, wondering how in the world he'd suddenly become the only responsible adult in the house. He could still hear Wade and Tony talking in the foyer, Wade laughing while Tony spoke in a strained tone that bordered on hostile.

"Peter," Aunt May snorted with a roll of her eyes. "You're teen boys who have been dating for two years. I'm under no illusion that you're still some inexperienced kid with no sex life."

Peter dropped the spoon into the pot, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding into his shoulder to hide a cringe. Actually, that 'illusion' hit the nail right on the head and he absolutely didn't want to discuss sex with his aunt or anyone ever again.

"You guys are being safe, though, right? I read that if you don't use lube—"

"Aunt May!" Peter slammed his hand on the counter so hard it made a hand-shaped dent in it. He threw a towel over the dent and stepped back, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Wade had been right; this was basically torture. It wasn't that he didn't think about sex—he was seventeen and had those urges just as much as anyone. It was more because he spent a lot of time trying _not_ to think about Wade in any sort of sexual way, and it was making things pretty hard when everyone kept talking about it. No, _not hard like that shutupshutupshutup._

"I'm just saying," Aunt May grinned into the potatoes, trying to stifle laughter. "Your Uncle Ben and I—"

"Okay! I've changed my mind, I'd rather brave it out in the war between Mr. Stark and Wade then listen to your old sex stories with Uncle Ben. Ew. No thanks."

He was pretty sure Aunt May had started talking about all that disturbing stuff just to get him to go be with Wade when he saw her try to hide a smirk, but he couldn't stick around. Nuh-uh. Not! Going there.

"—know how sexy his new clothes look? I mean, based on the rumours I have you to thank for that. So thank you ever so much, Uncle Tony, for lending my baby boy the money to look sah- _mokin_ '."

Peter recognized the look on Tony's face and quickly stepped between Wade and Tony to prevent a fistfight. Wade was enjoying trying to get a rise out of Tony far too much for Peter's liking.

"Living room," Peter gritted out, glaring at both of them. "With you two on opposite couches."

"Only if you sit on my lap," Wade hummed happily as he skipped into the living room. Peter moved to follow him but Tony put a restraining hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked in a confused-pissed-off voice. "Is it because I haven't let you in on missions lately? Or because I helped your Aunt May with that intervention? Or because you found out about that time I tried to get Steve to expel you from the Avengers?"

"What? No, I—Wait, you tried to get me expelled from the Avengers? What the hell!"

"Temporarily," Tony assured him quickly, looking like he'd regretted mentioning it. "I just don't think it's right for a kid your age to be out on missions you can potentially die on. You have a lot of smarts and... anyway, that's changing the subject."

"If I wasn't pissed before, I definitely am now," Peter muttered.

"Let's just forget about that. The point is: Are you... were you... mad or not? Because that—" Tony gestured vaguely to where Wade had disappeared into the living room. "That feels like some sort of petty revenge game. I know the real reason you're disappearing all the time, so just tell me this is you placating your aunt while getting back at me for whatever you're angry about. There's no way someone as bright as you would go out with someone who's making a sex pun every other sentence."

Okay. Okay, if Tony had asked in a nicer way and hadn't made Peter so goddamn angry then maybe Peter would've told him the truth; that it was all about Aunt May and had nothing to do with him being upset about anything. But Tony's implication that there was no way someone like Peter could like someone like Wade was so unfair that Peter decided he'd rather lie than give Tony any more reason to look down on Wade.

"As a matter of fact, I _do_ like him and the way you're talking about him is offensive," Peter snapped, jerking his shoulder out from under Tony's hand. "Maybe if you hadn't treated him like dirt back at the hospital, he would be nicer to you. This is important to me, okay? I want the both of you to get along, and if you can't do this for me then can you at least be civil? If these two parts of my life can't mix then—"

He shook his head, wondering why he was getting so fired up all of sudden. Somehow it felt like he'd actually meant every word he'd said, and his throat closed up in frustration as he turned back to the living room. Whatever. It wasn't important that this work out, anyway. It wasn't like Wade was his real boyfriend, so he didn't care about Tony and Wade getting along. Before he could get another step, however, Tony spun him again with both hands on his shoulders.

"Kid. Peter. Does he make you happy?"

"I—I don't know! I guess that if I think about the way I feel on a day-to-day basis, then yeah. Yeah, he makes me happy."

Tony closed his eyes as if struggling for words, his lips thinning as he turned his head to the ceiling. When he got over whatever he was thinking and finally opened his eyes again, he looked grim, resigned to his fate.

"Alright, fine. I will _try_ to get along with that—" Peter raised an eyebrow and Tony reigned it in. "—with your boyfriend. Your aunt informed me that you're good judge of character, and even though I see absolutely _zero_ positive qualities in him, I trust you. But if it turns out you're wrong about him and he ends up hurting you, don't be surprised if I bring the Avengers to hunt him down. If there's anything left of him after May gets her old shotgun out."

He tried to remind himself again that it didn't matter, but the smile that lit up his face was genuine as he stepped forward and hugged Tony so hard he lifted the older man off of his feet.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he said, grinning like an idiot as he spun Tony in a circle.

"Woah, woah! Okay!" Tony choked out. "This bonding crap is nice but my back isn't what it used to be. You can put me down anytime now."

Peter gently lowered him to his feet, where he let out a grunt as he straightened his tie and bent over to crack his back.

"That street goes both ways, though. If I try to get along with him, he'd better tone down the sex jokes. I absolutely don't need those images in my head. Ever."

"You got it, Mr. Stark," Peter chirped happily as he jogged into the living room where Wade was idly flipping through television channels. He threw himself on the couch next to Wade as Tony walked in, taking the seat opposite of them. Wade stretched his arm over Peter's shoulders absentmindedly, and Peter couldn't help but think that he was really, really good at this faking stuff. He leaned into Wade's side, letting himself have this moment while it lasted.

"So, Wade." Tony cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. Wade set the remote down to give Tony his undivided attention, pulling Peter tighter against him. "How did you and Peter meet? I don't think I've heard that one before."

Wade and Peter shared a look, Peter blurting out "At school," while Wade drawled "Cosplaying at a Comic-Con." They both fell silent.

"We met at the Comic-Con and got to know each other at school," Peter explained, jabbing Wade in the kidney where Tony couldn't see.

"Cosplaying...?" Tony asked, giving Peter an unimpressed look. "As who?"

"Deadpool and Spider-Man," Wade answered immediately, fingers tracing up Peter's shoulder to rest lightly on the back of his neck. "They're a couple, didn't you know?"

Peter shivered, giving his head the tiniest shake when Tony's glance asked a question. No, Wade had no idea that Peter was Spider-Man, and _no, Peter was not going out with Deadpool._

"Hm," Tony muttered noncommittally, switching to a different tactic. "How do you like school? What's your favourite subject?"

"Biology," Wade stated, his fingers inching higher and playing with the fine hairs at the base of Peter's skull. "We're partners in bio so I get to sit with Peter for an hour. It's like heaven, staring at him and watching him try to ignore me while he's squirming in his seat."

Peter wanted to speak up and tell Wade to shut up, but he was kind of frozen as Wade's cool fingers twisted strands of his hair up and gave them short little tugs. Wade teasing him while wearing a suit was a terrible combination, he decided. This wasn't going to happen again.

"Uh-huh." Tony's voice was flat and Peter could see the whites of his knuckles when he laced his fingers together. Things weren't going to go well if this kept up, not for anybody. Luckily, Aunt May came in wearing an apron and a strip of flour on her nose.

"Tony? Would you help me get the turkey out of the oven?" she asked sweetly, which was really just an excuse because Peter knew full well that Aunt May was strong enough to deal with it on her own.

Tony was only too happy to oblige, leaping up from his seat to follow her into the kitchen so he didn't have to socialize with Peter's 'boyfriend.' The second he was gone, Peter grabbed Wade's hand and pinned it to the couch, levelling a finger at him.

"Stop doing and saying weird shit," he warned, tightening his grip for emphasis. "I talked to Tony and he's agreed to act nice if you do. So no more joking around and trying to get under his skin."

"I recognized his effort and appreciated it, so let me assure you that I wasn't doing that to get under his skin," Wade laughed, trying in vain to free his hand from Peter's grip.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're so... sensitive! I was just keeping up the illusion that we're dating, because couples love to be touching all the time, but your reactions are driving me nuts."

"I'm not sensitive," Peter said through his teeth. "In fact, saying that I'm sensitive implies that I'm weak and I absolutely resent that implication."

"Is that why you're on steroids?"

"I'm not on steroids; that wall was just flimsy and so was the coke can!"

"...So you're not strong? Because you can only have it one way or the other. Either you're strong and on steroids, or you're a weak-ass sensitive kiddo not on drugs."

Peter released Wade's hand and stood up from the couch, crossing his arms. Wade was enjoying himself way too much as he crossed one leg over the other and smirked. If Peter weren't considering telling Wade about the whole Spider-Man gig, he might've let Wade have the moment while seething to himself about the fact that he _could_ prove his strength but wouldn't. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and let the annoyance slide from his expression. Wade's baby blues instantly went from smug to suspicious, but before he could say anything Peter stepped forward.

"I don't like that look," Wade stated, straightening and sinking into the couch as Peter continued to walk forward. "Petey. Petey!"

His voice rose to a shriek as Peter leaned down and wrapped his arms around Wade's abdomen. He lifted Wade over his shoulder as if the blond weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes while Wade squawked in protest and kicked his feet weakly. Peter shifted him onto his shoulder so he was holding him with one arm, Wade mumbling into his back.

"What was that?"

"I said I have a nice view of your ass from here. And also that I just discovered I have a strength kink."

"I'm going to let you hang there and think about what you said until you admit you were wrong."

"I wouldn't mind but I seriously need to know your trick. How the hell are you this strong? What are you hiding under those clothes of yours? How often do you go to the gym?"

"Bite me."

He felt more than heard Wade heave a sigh.

"Petey, this isn't going to end well for you if I decide to fight back. I have military training, remember?"

"Yep, I remember," Peter answered, rocking back and forth on his heels so Wade was swaying. "I just don't care."

"That is _it_! Maximum effort!"

With a grunt, Wade managed to kick his legs up and wrap them around Peter's midsection. Before Peter could react, he pulled some sort of weird move that made him slip from Peter's shoulder so that they were now face-to-face with Wade's legs wrapped around him. It was a bad position for people trying not to be attracted to each other, and Peter grabbed Wade's knees to throw him off. Wade's legs slipped away but his hands were on Peter's shoulders and he used the momentum Peter gave him to flip over Peter's shoulders and land behind Peter.

Peter's senses told him Wade was reaching for him, and he spun on his heel so he had not only changed positions but was also now facing Wade. He dodged a second hand reaching for him, then dropped down to sweep a foot at Wade's calves. Wade threw himself upwards and Peter changed his foot's direction to hook his ankle in Wade's and send the blond tumbling back into the couch.

Peter was on his toes in a second, launching himself at Wade while the other rolled out of the way and Peter hit the couch. He let out a small 'oof' as Wade rolled back to straddle him, sitting on his lower back.

"Tap out, Rocky," Wade said triumphantly. Peter set his hands against the couch and shoved himself backwards so that Wade had to claw at his shoulders to keep from slipping off. It felt like giving someone a piggy back ride, and Peter let Wade's weight pull them both to the floor. Wade let go at the last second so he wouldn't hit the ground, and Peter stood bent backwards with his head almost touching the ground. He went to snap back into standing upright but Wade kicked his feet out from under him and he ended up landing hard on his back.

"Come on!" Wade yelled as he was back on top of Peter again, trying to grab Peter's hands to pin them to the floor. Peter let Wade get a hold on his wrists, then twisted his arms while he bridged his body to roll them over so he was straddling Wade. Before the blond could jerk his hands away from their hold, Peter slid his wrists down and flipped his palms so he was now the one holding Wade's hands. He pinned them above Wade's head while Wade wriggled under him, pouting.

"Just admit you were wrong," Peter panted, eyes gleaming with the excitement and general adrenaline rush that came with a fight. Wade flexed his fingers and found no room to get away.

"I was wrong," he sighed, his body relaxing under Peter's. "I always thought I was the dom in an S and M relationship but I think I could get used to being the sub with you. Do whatever you want, Mistress. My safe word is 'Harder, baby.' Or is that a safe-phrase?"

"Since I beat you, you're going to stop with the sex jokes around Tony," Peter said sternly, ignoring Wade's little speech. "In return, I'll also tell you that the reason I'm strong is related to the reason I beat up drug dealers."

"Steroids," Wade answered, nodding. He shifted his arms as he did so and the fluttery white shirt he'd been wearing under his suit jacket lifted to reveal a golden stripe of skin that made Peter remember how compromising their position was. A second later, Tony walked in to call them for supper. He stopped in the living room doorway as Peter and Wade turned their heads as one.

"Walter, I think your shirt is too small," Tony offered in a perfectly reasonable voice that implied a shitstorm was coming. Peter let Wade's wrists go and scooted away so Wade could sit up, the two of them trying not to look guilty and only succeeding in looking guiltier. Wade snuck a glance Peter's way as he opened his mouth, then shut it and looked annoyed, as if he'd come up with some amazing sex joke that he now couldn't share because of Peter's rules. Too damn bad.

"This _so_ wasn't what it looked like," Peter began, and Tony smiled in a way that was more a humourless show of teeth.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen."

"But—"

" _I'll meet you in the kitchen, Peter._ "

Peter nodded in defeat, edging around Tony and looking back once to see that Tony had no intention of letting Wade come with him. This could go either good or bad. Namely, Tony would accept Wade or he'd throw him out. Peter's look hopefully told Wade how much trouble he was in. Sadly, knowing Wade, it didn't really matter.

 

**T Minus 224 Days**

**Friday, Nov. 10**

**6:53 P.M.**

"So," Wade started, lifting himself from the floor as Tony leaned against the entrance so he couldn't leave. "Supper time? Are we going? Aunt May is probably waiting, right?"

"You and I need to talk." Tony's voice was taut as he narrowed his eyes at Wade, and Wade wondered if he was actually about to get the birds and the bees from Iron Man. Whew. Wouldn't that be a story to tell the Hellhouse crowd?

"So you say, but I feel like what you really mean is that you're going to talk and I'm going to listen." Wade internally winced after speaking. He _had_ promised Peter not to antagonize Iron Man, and if this night didn't go well then he wouldn't be able to find out the secret involving drug dealers and steroids. That one still stumped him beyond belief. Why in the love of shit would Peter of all people take steroids? He said he hadn't, but kids shouldn't have enough strength to throw him off using their core muscles. He also wanted to say that Peter was in gymnastics or something, because there was something extremely fluid about his movements.

"I've looked through my files and there's one on another Wade Wilson," Tony muttered, drumming his fingers against his arm as he looked Wade up and down. "Same type of ridiculous humour, same type of immaturity, same type of height and build."

Oh. _Oh._ That wasn't good on any level.

_He's got us._

**I'm out.**

_You're part of us, you can't leave._

**Fuck. Okay, throw a distraction noodle and run.**

_We can't leave Petey Parkey! We just have to power through this and find a good place to hide the body later._

"He sounds like a cool guy," Wade said brightly. Tony's eyes narrowed further as he took a step into the room.

"No. He's the type of guy who would drag Peter into something that would get him badly hurt or worse. Peter is kid who doesn't need all this extra stress on top of what he's already going through. Do you care about him?"

_Talk about putting us on the spot._

**So we lie.**

"Of course I do."

_...That wasn't a lie._

Tony studied Wade for a minute that felt like a decade. Then he moved aside for Wade to go through the door into the kitchen.

"Then don't let him get mixed up with that other Wade Wilson. I don't know if he's a father or cousin or something else; he seems a little young to be your father, but I don't want him anywhere near Peter. I'd prefer that you weren't near Peter either, but apparently he really does like you and since he's had social issues in the past... Just don't fuck with his heart. He's a better kid than both of us put together and he deserves someone who will treat him that way. I'm not going to look into you anymore or try to get between you and Peter. I'm just going to warn you that if anything happens to him because of you, you'll regret it."

"I _know_ that," Wade burst out. "I would never put him in danger. Believe me; I'm doing everything in my power to _not_ put him in danger. If anything happens to him, you have my full permission to kill me."

He held Tony's eyes while his mind whirred a thousand miles a minute. Tony thought Deadpool was someone else, which made sense because his real self was older and all scarred up. That made the messages super confusing in this conversation, though; did he leave Peter alone so Peter wouldn't get hurt, or did he stay so Peter wouldn't get _hurt_?

**We aren't dating him so it doesn't matter.**

Right. It felt like such a waste, though, gaining Iron Man's approval (sort of) when it didn't matter in the end. Well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? Start dating Peter?

_You know..._

**He does know how to take care of himself...**

"No," Wade said aloud, and Tony's expression changed from one of grudging acceptance to suspicious confusion. "I mean... Noel. Christmas, it's my favourite meal and this reminds me of it. Let's eat!"

Before Tony could reply, he danced into the kitchen and dropped into the seat beside Peter's, flashing a small thumbs up when Peter gave him a curious glance. Then it was dinner time, and Wade was in heaven eating Aunt May's food that tasted like home, moms, and all the happy things you had as a kid. Wade wondered for a moment if he was scarfing it down too quick, but when he noticed Peter basically inhaling the meal without stopping to breathe he decided there was no problem with it.

"So, Wade," Aunt May spoke into the sound of crunches and loud chewing. "Tell me about yourself."

"Not much to say," Wade mumbled around a mouthful of heavenly potatoes. "I was homeschooled in Canada until I moved here and started going to school with Peter. Best decision of my life."

He grinned and a bunch of white mush fell out of his mouth onto his plate. Aunt May looked away with a hand over her mouth to stifle a smirk while Peter gave him a disgusted look. Tony seemed smug, as if Peter being annoyed with Wade was his reason for living. Eh, whatever.

The rest of dinner was spent mostly with Wade talking to Aunt May. She was probably the loveliest lady Wade had ever met, and he finally understood how Peter had turned into such a respectful kid. She was the only one who laughed at his poor attempts at humour, she kept shovelling food onto his plate, and her smile was so happy when Wade took Peter's hand that it made his heart sort of ache. Peter, noticing her expression, didn't draw his hand away; he laced his fingers through Wade's and kept them there instead.

"Wade," Aunt May sighed in contentment as he leapt up to help Peter gather plates when they were finished. "You're a good kid."

"I'm just showing off to make a good impression on you." It was now nearly ninety percent the truth. "If I'm going to be spending any more time with Petey, I want your approval. We cool?"

"We are _so_ cool that you're absolutely spending the night here," Aunt May stated as she sipped tea from a chipped china cup. "Peter tells me you don't have anyone to go home to. I think it'll be nice for you to sleep surrounded by people for a change."

"That's going a little far, don't you think?" Tony asked as he started running water for the dishes. "At the very least, Wade can take the couch."

"My house, my rules," Aunt May reminded Tony, eyes sparkling over her tea. "Wade is spending the night with Peter. End of story."

"Do I get a say?" Peter, who had been unusually quiet through the whole thing, squeaked. He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to keep the happiness on his aunt's face but didn't exactly want Wade in his bed. Wade couldn't blame him; thinking of sleeping inches away from Peter in a bed that _smelled_ like him was too much. Dead puppies. _Dead puppies._

"You don't need to say a word. This is to show you that Tony and I are completely okay with who you are and what you do."

Peter set the dishes in the sink with a clunk, staring down at where the water was running over them. He had that deer-in-headlights look as he cast a sidelong glance at Wade, then an over-the-shoulder at his aunt. When his eyes did that soft gooey thing at his aunt's excitement, Wade knew they were both fucked. Maybe even literally.

"Thanks," was all Peter said while Tony's jaw tightened. Tony was making an effort at least, though Wade couldn't exactly blame him for being wary of the two of them in the same room. It didn't take a billionaire genius to see that Peter was irresistible. Like catnip to gays. And straights. And everyone. The feeling of not knowing how in the ever living fuck he'd managed to get the boy to like him threatened to overwhelm him as Peter went to give his aunt a hug.

"I can only handle this to a point," Tony ground out as he began scrubbing furiously at a plate. "Peter is a seventeen year old boy. They make mistakes; I know from experience. Not to mention the fact that I'm staying here tonight to give Bucky and Steve some alone time. I didn't come from there to hear... _stuff_... here. Keep the door _open._ "

Aunt May hesitated, then shrugged as if she agreed. It was only after Tony had turned back around that she offered Peter and Wade a huge, not-at-all-subtle wink. Peter puffed out cheeks that were rapidly colouring as Aunt May finished her tea then got up to give Peter a light push towards Wade.

"Go on, we've got this."

"Right." Peter grabbed Wade's hand without looking at him, leading him through the house at a brisk pace and then towards the stairs where Wade assumed his bedroom was. When Wade knew they were out of earshot, he finally spoke.

"Not that I don't think we could have a good time, but why would you ever agree to this in a million years? After everything we've said?"

"I haven't seen Aunt May this happy since Uncle Ben passed," Peter answered as he pulled Wade up the stairs. "If she thinks she's doing something that'll make _me_ happy, she gets overjoyed. I couldn't pass it up. Plus..."

Peter stopped on the top step and released Wade's hand, turning so they were almost eye-level, Peter being just a little taller on the step above Wade. He seemed to wrestle with himself as his hand fluttered faintly to the railing, and he picked a picture on the wall over Wade's shoulder to focus on when he let the words flow out.

"I've been talking to my old friends recently, and I've realized that maybe I can be both. Someone who gets into a little danger but can also have a life outside of that. If I can separate the two and make sure everyone's completely safe, maybe it won't do any harm. I mean, if we're already friends then isn't it only a matter of us not wanting to feel as bad if we do put each other in danger? If anyone goes after me or you, they'll already know we're friends. We hang out all the time. And I know that it was my idea in the first place since you were really the one who didn't want this, but since I just realized it myself..."

Peter shrugged helplessly, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I thought... I thought we could try. If things go badly then we can always break it off. Once I tell you why I'm so strong, I think you'll be less inclined to believe someone from your past can hurt me. And you... you have military training. I noticed when we were fighting that you move like someone who's used to a fight. I may be way off base here and totally fucking everything up, I realize that. Still, I have to try. So..."

Peter actually brought his hands together and wrung them like some sort of worried housewife. He let his eyes slide to Wade's face at last, brows pulled up in worry as he tried to read Wade's expression.

"Do you want to possibly drop the 'fake' from boyfriend?"

Peter's voice was hesitant with blotches of red in each cheek, and only Wade's schooling of playing poker allowed him to keep a neutral face despite his complete and utter shock. He'd considered it a lot, letting Peter in, and used Peter's description of finding love painful as an excuse not to. His other excuses were now becoming more and more flimsy under the weight of the confession; Peter was clearly far better at looking after himself than he seemed, he didn't look apt to break under relationship pressure, he had a good support network if anything ever happened... Shit. Shee-it. Wade wanted this really fucking bad. Even his natural sway was pulling him towards Peter, as if gravity itself wanted them together.

"I don't want to have sex with you until you're nineteen because it would be really weird because of maturity issues and in my head it would be fucked up, and actually I do want to have sex with you but I mean I won't since you're a kid and haha, we're both kids anyway, it's kind of—"

"I'm not _asking_ you to have sex with me, you dork," Peter interrupted in the voice Wade had become most accustomed to. He looked torn between amusement and embarrassment as he turned his back on Wade, shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked. I just lost all desire to ever go out with you or even look at you again. I'm probably just going to go lock myself in my room and yell into a pillow for ten thousand years then throw myself screaming into the abyss. Yep, that sounds better than what's going on here."

"No," Wade said suddenly, and then they were kissing. Wade had no idea who'd even initiated it; Peter had spun around as he'd tried to go up the steps and it had probably been both of them finally doing something about the insane tension between them.

This kiss wasn't like the other two, one where Peter had pecked him on the lips and the other where Wade had jokingly given him a real kiss while knowing full well that Tony and Aunt May were watching. This one was with full intent, searing and teasing darts of the tongue while he stumbled up the steps and Peter was desperately pulling him closer by his suit. Peter's back hit the hall's wall and Wade was pretty sure a picture fell off, but nothing mattered more than Peter's tongue exploratively tracing his lower lip. Not even air, and he had to pull back for a second when he started getting lightheaded from lack of air. Vanessa had always said he needed to learn how to breathe through his nose when they were kissing. He wasn't thinking about her now, though.

"Which one is your room?" Wade puffed hoarsely, and Peter dragged him backwards and kicked a door open. Wade barely had time to process Peter's room before they were kissing hungrily again, Wade's fingers slipping under Peter's shirt and digging into the hot skin of his waist. He could dimly remember something about the door, so he spun them and used his weight against Peter's body to shut the door with a click of finality. Then he was trailing his mouth down Peter's jaw, nipping at the boy's neck while Peter made an appreciative sound in his throat and slid his hand into Wade's hair to pull him closer.

"You're hot," Wade chuckled as Peter started to slump against the door and Wade had to use one hand to prop him up. He peered up through his eyelashes and was greeted with the sight of a dazed, mussed Peter with a cracked lip. Oops, he had no idea when that had even happened.

"Screw you," Peter answered almost as an afterthought, forcing himself to stand straighter. Wade arched an eyebrow, then let out a small 'Hup' as he slid his hands under Peter's thighs and lifted him so they were flush against each other, Peter glancing down at where his feet were no longer on the floor with a frown.

"I'd be happy to let you," Wade growled with a devilish smirk, shoving Peter maybe harder than necessary against the door as he sucked marks onto Peter's neck. Peter must've known what he was doing because he made faint mewls of protest when he realized the marks would be very visible, but his protests quickly faded as he decided to let his own hands explore Wade's body. Wade shivered as Peter untucked his shirt and slid cool hands up his back. For every mark he made on Peter's neck, he could feel Peter's nails flexing against his shoulder blades, leaving scratches. To be frank, it only turned him on more.

"You're an asshole," Peter moaned as Wade backed up until his knees hit the bed, then tumbled down into it. He tried to flip them so Peter was under him, but Peter was having none of it. He shook his head and pressed himself all along the length of Wade's body like a cat stretching, surprising both of them. Not that Wade minded.

"Peter," Wade murmured as Peter's hands began to wander, sliding from Wade's back to his front and smoothing out on his stomach. He was pretty sure they both looked like messes at this point; his entire body was aching with need, chest rising and falling rapidly, and Peter was clearly just as turned on. Wade wanted nothing more than a continuation of this whole thing, preferably with Peter groaning insults that weren't very effective with Wade's hands down his pants. Instead, he forced himself to focus.

"Peter," he ground out more strongly when Peter's hands started fumbling with his belt. God, the kid would look glorious riding him. He let out an annoyed sound at his own logic. He didn't have morals for ninety-nine percent of other things, so why should it be any different now? But it _was._

"Stop," he commanded, and Peter's hands stilled as he looked at Wade with a confused, vulnerable look that made Wade feel like the world's shittiest person. Before he could explain, Peter came back to himself with a snap and rolled off of Wade, perching on the side of the bed as if he were about to run.

"Oh my God," Wade heard him whisper, and then a longer, more drawn out, "Oh my Goooood."

"Hey, look, it's—"

As if making a split second decision, Peter's response was to shove Wade off the bed and hide under his covers. One minute Wade was about to explain why, and the next he was sitting on the floor while Peter had become nothing more than a lump under the covers. Wade frowned as he picked himself up, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to the general place he figured Peter's shoulder was.

"I really, really want to," Wade explained, with no response from the peanut gallery. "But I'm serious about waiting until you're older. You're really sexy, don't get me wrong, but—"

"I don't care about _that_ ," came a muffled response from the heap of blankets. Wade frowned, wishing he could see Peter's face.

"Then what's the problem?"

Silence.

"Did you just realize you're straight?"

A muttered sound that was generally non-favourable.

"Okaaay... Well, did you realize you're not attracted to me?"

Another negative. Wade crossed his arms as he thought, glad he had some time to cool off for a bit. He took in the room; nerdy posters, pictures of friends, Legos, clothes lying in heaps on the floor. It looked like a typical teen's room with maybe a bit more science-y stuff. What reason would a teen boy have to freak out over sex? If he were a seventeen year old probably-virgin, what would freak him out? The answer hit him all at once and he sighed, laying down beside the lump of blankets and withdrawing his hand to fold it on his stomach while he twiddled his thumbs.

"You're embarrassed because of the way you acted, huh?" It was more of a statement then a question. The twitch of Peter's body and general way he curled up more was more than enough of an answer. "Probably because you're turned on, too. I get that. It can be embarrassing if it's your first time. But listen, that's what the whole intimacy part of a relationship is, you know? You see a side of your partner they don't show anyone else. Maybe you think I'll see you in a different light now or something. Well guess what? It's still you, just with the added bonus of being more breathless and having a certain appendage be a little bigger than normal. I'm not embarrassed at all and I'm sitting here with a raging hard-on. I'm just slightly physically uncomfortable."

For a second he thought Peter had decided to never leave his cocoon of sheets. Then they slowly unfurled and a butterfly emerged. Not really. Just a rumpled Peter, with a face redder than ketchup. Still as pretty as a butterfly though.

"That doesn't make it any better," Peter grumbled, refusing to look at anything other than a poster of Bill Nye doing some sort of chemistry. But the fact that he'd come out was a victory in itself, and Wade grinned as he reached out to run a hand through Peter's hair, watching it stick straight up until Peter gave him a sour look.

"You may as well stop being freaked out about it now, since we're boyfriends and we're going to be sharing a bed tonight. I mean, I assume you jerk off at night so you may as well stop finding making out awkward when you'll be jerking it with me right beside you."

"First off, I'm _not_... doing that. I can't believe we're even having this conversation. Neither one of us is going to be doing _that_ in _this bed_ tonight. Second... did you say boyfriend?"

"Did I?" Wade asked with mock shock. Peter punched him in the arm.

"Ow. Okay, fine, yes, maybe I did. Obviously that whole thing just now was an agreement. I'd have thought it would've been obvious."

Peter sat straight up, covers falling from his shoulders as he watched Wade warily as if waiting for him to crack a smile and say it was all a joke. It was really hard not to laugh when Peter was expecting him to, but Wade managed to hold it together long enough for Peter to believe he wasn't lying.

"Oh," Peter managed to get out, fists knotting in the blankets as he looked down. A slow smile bloomed across his face like the sun breaking out from behind the clouds, and Wade wished he'd brought a video camera to tape it. "Thanks."

"Thanks?"

Peter ducked back under the covers.

"I didn't know what else to say!" he wailed as Wade bent double laughing. "It was just reflex!"

"No, no, it's great!" Wade chortled, wiping at tears in his eyes. "That's exactly what you say when someone says they'll date you. Thanks! Thanks for dating me! Oh God, I l...like you, Peter Parker."

Whew. He'd narrowly avoided saying love, which was way too early at this point. They still needed to talk about Peter's secret and probably open the door so Tony didn't get pissed, but for now all Wade wanted to do was curl up with his boyfriend and maybe watch a movie before they went to bed.

"Speaking of dating, we've gotta go on one. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't care," the blankets said. "You pick."

"Me? Okay, I know where we wanna go."

Wade leaned down and put his mouth right at Peter's head, smirking.

"I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway, lookin' for the love getaway," he sang.

"Please die," Peter offered in his most reasonable tone.

"Headed for the love getaway, I got me a car, it's as big as whale."

Peter sat up again, this time to clap a hand over Wade's mouth. Wade continued to sing, even licking Peter's palm while Peter made a disgusted expression and wiped his hand on the blankets.

"The _looooooove shaaaaack_ is a little old place where _we_ can _get togetherrrrrr._ "

"If you're this immature, I'm picking for us," Peter announced, shaking his head. Wade fell quiet, trying not to laugh at how predictable Peter was. "We're going to see a movie and have dinner. That's what normal, _civilized_ people do. We'll do next Saturday since we have a test coming up this week."

"Sounds great! Speaking of, I still don't know what my mark is in bio. I actually brought the test over so you could read me my mark."

"It feels like that was forever ago," Peter muttered as Wade rummaged around in his suit pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper complete with pizza sauce and mustard stains. No paper stayed white on his counter for very long. Peter brought the paper close to his face with a frown, squinting at smudged writing. After a moment, his face cleared and he beamed proudly, his smile worth a thousand words.

"Eighty-one," he cheered happily as he passed the paper back to Wade, grinning like an idiot. After a moment, when Wade didn't grin or leap for joy, his giddiness was replaced with concern as he cocked his head at Wade. "What's wrong? You wanted over eighty right?"

"Yeah," Wade sighed, reaching for some light expression to give Peter. Yeah, he was reaching for over an eighty to be turned back to himself at the end of the school year. But what would happen if he actually managed to get the marks and he actually _did_ become himself at the end of the year?

He cast a glance to Peter, who was flipping through his phone to check out what movies were playing. If he was twenty-five again, how would it change his relationship with Peter? Would they even be able to stay together once he was back to being full-time Deadpool?

He wanted the answer to be yes. But unless Peter's secret could totally change the game, the answer would probably no. The situation had officially gone from SNAFU to FUBAR.

Wade was going to hell for this.


End file.
